


The Medic

by basaltdyke



Series: Huxdemption [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Amputation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Dysphoria, Bottom Armitage Hux, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character-centric, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Redemption, Resistance Member Armitage Hux, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltdyke/pseuds/basaltdyke
Summary: Hux narrowly evades execution by the First Order and tosses himself to the only ally he has left—the Resistance. He crash lands near the Resistance base of Ajan Kloss, and when he's discovered with a viscous infection, their medical team is forced to amputate one of his legs. Weakened and broken, Hux loses the will to live. However, a second chance at life is made possible by the care from a charming Resistance medic. ("Hux Lives after the events of TROS" Fix-it fic; Armitage Hux/OMC AU and the OMC is Poe Dameron's half-brother)
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Original Character(s), Armitage Hux/Original Male Character(s), Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron & Original Character(s)
Series: Huxdemption [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078622
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for references to childhood sexual and physical abuse, adulthood physical violence and abuse, medically necessary amputation, and a graphic depiction of an attempted suicide. Also, a good portion of this fic contains Hux losing a limb and having ablest thoughts toward himself/body dysmorphia after losing a limb. Hux’s feelings come from his characterization and do not reflect my ideas about disabled persons. Please message me @basaltdyke on tumblr for details if you would like them.
> 
> This story is canon compliant with two major retcons: (1) Hux doesn’t die at the end of The Rise of Skywalker and (2) Poe Dameron has a dashing older brother who is a part of the Resistance and has a troubled past. My friend (@twink-hux on tumblr) and I came up with an original character with the face claim of Pedro Pascal. Our motivation with this story was to give Hux a shot at redemption and love, with a man who would treat him right (aka not Kylo Ren :/ I am an ex-Kylux shipper and fell out of love with Kylux after TLJ). While gingerpilot is *chefs kiss* we liked the idea of an OC stepping into the picture that actually liked Hux (which isn't Poe in canon unfortunately). 
> 
> We came up with the idea of Poe having a brother who falls in love with Hux, and Pedro’s and Oscar’s delightful friendship inspired us to make Pedro the OC’s face claim. To explain their lack of resemblance, I made the Pedro-OC Poe’s half-brother. (And no, Poe’s brother is not Mando). Also be forewarned I explored the Spice Smuggler Poe trope from TROS. I hope that this doesn’t bother anyone. Also, I added a merchant city (named Yavis) to Yavin 4 instead of maintaining the canon that Yavin 4 was simply a colony. Not a big deal but helps with the logistics a bit in the early chapters.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover art:  
> 

White, bleaching lights fly overhead.

Hux’s eyes flutter. He’s flat on his back, arms strewn, feet encased by a chirping droid. He’s being dragged like a sack of garbage. Pryde didn’t even bother to send for Stormtroopers to carry away his corpse. Pryde’s conceit will be both his end and Hux’s revival.

Thanks to the blaster-repellent vest beneath his uniform, Hux sustained little more than a cracked rib or two from Pryde’s execution attempt. The pain is potent, but not enough to distract him from his mission. Hux clenches his jaw, bracing as the droid pulls him into an airlock. This is a rightful burial for a traitor. Traitors deserve to be gone and forgotten. Hux never imagined he’d be the one deserving such a punishment.

As the droid pulls him into the vestibule, Hux times his escape. With his remaining strength, he kicks the droid backward, dislodging from its grasp. The droid wavers and chirps as Hux gets to his feet, lurching pathetically against the wall. Satisfied, Hux lunges for the doors and flushes the little droid to its doom in the vacuum of white-speckled black.

Gasping with exhaustion, Hux hastens his retreat to the nearest transport. Footsteps alert him of trouble around the corner. If he’s discovered, this will be his end. He turns, grimacing at the discovery of a nearby trash chute. He has no choice but to enter it. That, or get shot on the spot. He will not be as lucky this time. Hux clamors down the chute, landing in a puddle of debris and sewage.

The smell nearly kills him. His chest contorts in agony as he slides around the filth. His ribs creak like springs, and the wound in his thigh stings from the putrid water. If FN-2187 had shot him in the shoulder, he wouldn’t be risking infection like this. Hux wails in remorse for the wellbeing of his wound. Something man-sized slithers beneath the murky water. Whimpering pathetically, he limps to his feet, searching the walls for the safety override. Hux knows everything about this ship, like where to access the escape pods from this level.

The hatch gives to his command and Hux wobbles on slippery, filthy legs, striping brown along the immaculate halls. He locates the escape pods and punches the location of the Resistance base. It’s information he would have killed innocents and destroyed planets to get, before everything went to shit. The last thing he does is perform a tracking override before he passes out on the pod floor.


	2. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time fleshing out an original character for this story. So much time that I made this faux Wookiepedia page in photoshop! If you are having trouble viewing the image below, [here](https://i.imgur.com/XLTeYFX.jpg) is a link to the file. The Wookiepedia page accompanies this chapter. I decided to take the time to flesh out Kay as an OC and his relationship with his brother in order to build on Hux's dynamic with Kay and the other members of the Resistance. Apologies if you are reading on mobile; I know the pictures may be wonky. FYI: The rest of the fic all take place after the events of TROS and are Hux centric.  
>   
> 
> 
> Also made this Pedro and Oscar collage to set the mood! 

_11 ABY_

_A remote colony on Yavin 4_

Poe Dameron is nine years old. Almost a year ago, he buried his mother on their homestead. She was a hero to the Republic, an ace pilot, a true friend and loving mother. He misses her every day.

Whenever he shares his hurt with his grandfather, he tells Poe that the worst part is over. He reminds him that family is sacred, and forever. She will always be with him. She will be the fire in his repulsor lifts, the electric thrum of his engine, the endless lines of stars accompanying him in hyperspace.

Poe sits in the starfighter, gripping the dusty controls. He narrows his eyes, envisioning that the cascading forested mountains in his view blur above his head.

A tap on the door brings him back to reality. It’s just Dad.

“Come on out. I need to speak with you,” his dad says, muffled through the glass.

Obediently, Poe steps out of his mother’s prized starfighter. He hops to the dirt, curled dark hair flopping into his eyes. He looks up at his father. Kes Dameron’s face is grim like he’s drunk sour milk.

“I have something important to tell you.”

“Everything okay?”

Kes lays a hand on his son’s shoulder. “This may be difficult to hear, but I need you to know something about us. About me.”

Poe frowns, squaring his shoulders. He braces for the news. He’s a tough kid and knows how to handle heavy stuff.

Kes bows his head, searching for the right words. “Before I tell you, I want you to know that would never lie to you. I’ve only known about this for a few days. I would never keep something like this from you, understand?” Young Poe nods, and his father continues. “Before your mother and I married, I had other partners. One from my youth, Yesmi, called me a few days ago. She was very distraught and terribly guilty. Unwittingly, she hid something from us both.” Kes pauses, summoning the courage to spill the truth. “She has a boy. My son. Your big brother.”

Of all the ideas racing through Poe’s mind, a _surprise big brother_ was not one of them. “A brother? I have a brother?”

Kes smiles and nods, gripping Poe’s shoulder tightly. “You do. He’s thirteen. Lives on the west hemisphere in Yavis, the merchant city. Right here on Yavin 4.”

A brother. A big brother? Immediately, Poe’s ecstatic. “What’s his name? Do I get to meet him?”

“His name is Kay. I’m going to the city to meet him tomorrow. You’re welcome to come along, if you’re ready.”

Poe grins, ear to ear. “Hell yeah, I’m ready.”

“Hey. Watch your damn language,” Kes jibes, slinging his arm over his shoulders. Poe snickers, excitement sky-high.

\--

_11 ABY_

_Yavis, the major merchant city of Yavin 4_

Kay Goron is thirteen years old. Ten days ago, he buried his father in the city crypt.

Rather, he buried the man that he believed was his father. He buried the man who had been his father his whole life, and his father died knowing, _believing_ that Kay was his son. Now, fate has twisted his immense loss into a sick, ironic game. His father, whom he shares his first and last name with, was not his biological father. His biological father is alive, and he is coming today.

Yesmi Goron, his mother, is a doctor. She has dedicated her life to helping others. Having grown up nearly creditless, she used education and talent to give Kay a better life. She is a very skilled healer and knows human and xeno medicine very well. She understands blood types, genes, and DNA.

When they buried his father, Kay’s mother poured over the family medical records. Kay’s father died of a nervous system disorder. Because of this, she worked tirelessly to test her son’s genetics in order to see if the same disability would progress in her son. However, blood tests and then later DNA tests proved that Kay did not have a trace of the disease because he was not the biological son of his father. It’s as if he lost him all over again, within the span of days.

“He was your father, Kay,” his mother reassured him, tears in her brown eyes. “He raised you as his own. Genetic material is just material. He was your father your whole life. And he always will be.”

Kay cried and cried like a baby, frustrated and consumed with grief. “I don’t want this,” he bellowed into her arms.

“I know, Kay, I know. I refuse to force this on you. But your biological father is a good man. I knew him before the final war. He’s a _good man_. A soldier. I haven’t seen him in years, but he and his wife retired right here on our world. And Kay, Kes Dameron has a son. You have a little brother.”

After a few short days after discovering his new family, young Kay braces for the inevitable: meeting his _real_ father and his half-brother Kes and Poe Dameron. His mother is at his side, arm in arm. The Yavis skyline glitters with rusted towers in the glow of dawn. One of the speeders overhead deposits a man and a small boy down the vacant landing pad. Kay fears that any gust of tropical wind could blow the little boy to the ground.

Kay is thirteen but he’s almost as tall as Kes. He doesn’t really know what to say, so he sticks out a hand for a shake. His mother told him that he’s serious for a teenager. In his defense, it’s a serious galaxy out there. Thankfully, Kes accepts the handshake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kay,” Kes smiles. “I’m Kes Dameron. This is my son Poe.”

The little boy, Poe, looks eager and excited, rascally in a way that makes him think he’s not gonna grow out of it anytime soon, if ever. Kay waves awkwardly, and his lips curve in what is technically a smile.

Kay watches as his mother embraces this man, like they are two old friends.

“We are so sorry for your loss,” Kes tells them. “Poe and I lost his mother about a year ago. It was very difficult.”

Kay studies the father-son pair. They too have lost someone they cherished, admired. He stares at Poe, trying to read his minute expressions.

Later that evening, Poe and Kes are in their home, excited and enthusiastic as if they are a whole new family. Kay spent the evening conversing amicably with Kes, and even exchanging a few things with Poe. His little brother. It’s so strange.

Kay sneaks out to the roof, needing the space, while Kes and his mother are talking in the kitchen. He doesn’t hear Poe and begins to wonder where the little guy ran off to. Minutes later, a brown, curly head pokes his out of the window. Big, inquisitive brown eyes find Kay.

“Can I come out, too?”

Kay shuffles. He doesn’t want to be a jerk. Poe is just a little kid. “Sure.”

Poe scoots out, his half-tied clunky boots thudding on the roof panels. “You have a cool house. We live in the jungle. It’s pretty fun but we don’t have as many speeders and ships flying in and out.”

“Thanks.” He stares at Poe. They don’t really look alike. They look like how most people on Yavin 4 look: dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin. Poe looks like his dad, and Kay looks like his mom. He never looked like his original dad, but it didn’t make him think twice about their relationship. He misses him so much.

He doesn’t realize that it’s silent for too long until Poe speaks up. “When I lost my mom, my grandpa told me it’s okay to be sad for as long as you need. It’s sad because you loved him so much.”

“At least she was actually your mother,” Kay snaps. He doesn’t want to be mean. He’s just upset.

Poe looks down but isn’t giving up that easily. “I’m really sorry about all this, Kay. I hope we can be friends.”

Kay feels like a total jerk. Thankfully, Poe is very understanding. He lost a parent, too, and recently. “Thanks,” Kay says. He’s always been of few words. He tries hard to say more, from the heart. They only just met, but they are already connected, by both pedigree and tragedy. “Of course, we can be friends. We’re brothers,” Kay says, meaning it, earning him a bright, toothy grin from the young boy.

\--

_18 ABY_

_A smugglers ship orbiting the gaseous planet of Yavin_

Poe Dameron is sixteen years old. He met his half-brother Kay Goron seven years ago. Over the years, they have gotten close. Summertime was their time to bond. Kay and Poe spent months out of the year at the colony chasing each other in circles and making friends with the wildlife. They’re four years apart, just enough for the years to separate their maturity levels.

Poe can’t help but feel very much like the immature little brother in this moment. Because Poe Dameron is currently tied and gagged with a bag over his head in the steamy bowels of some smugglers’ ship.

Fuck. He is _so_ fucked. He’d give anything to be back home playing in his yard like a kid, getting his ass handed to him by his enormous brother shooting balls into hoops.

The door hisses open. Poe is ramrod straight against the wall, his thin wrists pinched together in crude rope cuffs. A guttural voice assaults Poe’s ears with a language he doesn’t understand. Boots thud close. They yank the bag off his head. He blinks around, mouth dry around the cloth gag.

“Him?!” a voice growls. “He did this to you? This shrimp?”

Poe grunts in protest. He’s not scrawny. He’s gonna fill out.

Two smugglers are arguing about him. They’re pissed because Poe stabbed one of them in the throat. In self-defense. The guy Poe got in the throat is wailing on a seat, delirious with pain and blood loss. His partner looms over Poe, fists clenched with rage.

It’s not like Poe assaulted some gangster and got kidnapped on purpose. He only meant to lift some parts from their cargo. Just a compressor or two, some light caps. Things worth more than he could ever afford.

His father would be so disappointed in him. Does it count that he was stealing from the bad guys? It’s like an anti-crime. He’s never gotten caught. Until now.

“My partner dies, kid? I’ll have your head. Droid!” the goon shouts, whipping around to tend to the skittish metal thing tasked with repairing his friend’s neck.

 _“He needs a hospital,”_ the droid informs them passively.

“No hospitals!” the goon growls.

_“He is not likely to survive unless we get him to a medical droid. My life saving protocol is insufficient.”_

The goon punches the wall, then he’s back on Poe, hoisting him by the shoulders. “You’ve done it now, kid.”

Poe groans, panicking. How can he fix this?! Is Poe Dameron about to be offed in the belly of some smugglers’ ship because he was defending himself? There’s gotta be something he can do.

An idea strikes him. “I c'n h'lp!” he mumbles. The guy is perplexed but yanks the gag from his cotton mouth. “I can help,” Poe pants.

“You expect me to believe that you can stitch him up?”

“N-no, but my brother can. He’s in medical school. He’s going to become a doctor. I can call him.”

“You pulling my leg?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Poe says, trying to turn on the charm. “I’ll call him.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“He’s about your height. Wide in the shoulders. Got a little mustache. We can bring your friend to him. He’ll help. He should be at the hospital now, the one in town on Yavin 4. He’s an intern. Knows droids well, too,” Poe babbles. If Poe doesn’t die in this ship, it’ll be by the hands of his angry brother. “Come on, you’re gonna kill me either way, right? What have you got to lose?”

The goon smiles. “We’ll pick him up.”

“Wait—” The main goon and a gaggle of other goons trail out of the room. Poe could hit himself. “Don’t hurt him!”

Twenty minutes later, Poe has busied himself by watching the blood congeal from the other guy’s throat and into the grimy floor. The hatch hisses and the gang leader brings in their new prisoner. Kay’s face is grim and haunted. His cheek is red and bludgeoned, beginning to swell.

Poe sits up. “Kay, I’m sorry—”

The leader shoves Kay with the tip of his blaster. “Fix him. Or we throw you and your twerp brother from altitude.”

Kay hastens with the emergency medical bag he swiped as he was dragged from work by the gang. He swipes a shaky hand over his forehead. Dammit, Poe. What the hell has he gotten himself into?

Focusing on the task, Kay evaluates the trauma of the man’s neck. It’s not terrible, but it’s not ideal to treat a wound like this here. Determined, Kay tries to fix the bandages, suturing his neck and nicked artery back together. The man’s pulse is weak. “He needs a blood transfusion,” Kay informs them as calmly as possible.

He shudders at the unmistakable nudge of a loaded blaster to the back of his head. “No. Hospitals.”

“I can’t do anything more for him. He needs blood,” Kay stammers.

“We got blood,” the leader proclaims.

“He needs a lot of blood.” Surely, they aren’t suggesting that they bleed themselves dry.

“You and your brother’s blood are getting spilled either way. It’s up to you if you chose to live afterwards.”

Kay exhales, weighing his options. “Does anyone know this man’s blood type?”

Silence answers him. Of course, Kay’s blood type can be universally donated. Poe’s, too. But Poe is still small. Kay’s a lot larger, nearly two meters tall. Kay rummages through the bag for supplies. He fashions a double ended needle, tube long enough so that he can sit above the patient and feed his veins with his own. Kay begins to administer his blood into the man’s vein. He clenches his fist, the life draining from him.

It doesn’t take long for the headiness to hit. Kay sits back and breathes through his nose, monitoring his heartrate. He looks over to Poe, who is wallowing on the floor. There will be time to discuss this later. What matters now is that they make it out of this alive. He passes his younger brother a nod. _It’s going to be alright_.

After ten agonizing minutes, Kay’s vision blackens. He can’t allow himself to pass out. Though the patient may need more, Kay brings his wavering hands to extract the needle in his arm, catching the needle prick with a bacta gauze.

“Let me check on him,” comes Poe’s angry, terrified voice through Kay’s brain fog. “I’m not gonna do anything. Please, let me make sure he’s okay.”

The gang must have permitted this, since he feels two clammy hands at his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot,” Poe laments.

“’m sorry ‘re such an idiot, too,” Kay slurs, and Poe chuckles painfully in response. Blearily, Kay fondles for the patient’s pulse. It’s stronger. He’ll probably live.

“Everything good?” snaps the leader. Kay nods, wavering backwards against the wall.

“He fixed your guy. Now, let us go,” Poe orders as if he’s the tallest guy in the room.

The leader approaches the two. “Thank you, sir, for taking care of our friend,” he tells Kay. He crosses an arm over his chest as a salute. “You’re free to go. The kid’s staying with us.”

Poe starts, but is shushed by Kay’s hand in his face. Adrenaline is fueling him now. “I took care of your friend. Now, he owes you nothing. What good is he to you?”

“See, Doc,” the leader says. “Poe here is an opportunist. He’s been stealing from us for months and now that he’s gotten caught, we are due what’s rightfully ours.”

“That’s an outright lie! I haven’t been stealing for—” Poe shuts his mouth when Kay grabs his elbow.

“How much does he owe?” Kay demands, dreading the answer.

“Seven hundred thousand credits.”

Horror chills Poe to the bone. He didn’t steal seven hundred thousand credits worth of _shit_. “You liar!”

“And for what you did to our friend over here? Now it’s double.”

“That’s over a million credits! If you think you can get away with—”

“Shut _up_ ,” Kay growls. “We are not in control here.”

“Kay, you can’t just let them do this to me.”

“I will pay you what I have,” Kay tells them. It’s not much, and won’t put a dent in 1.4 million credits, but maybe the cold hard cash will appease them. “How is he expected to get the rest? He’s only sixteen.”

“The boy will work it off.”

Kay breathes through flaring nostrils. “Doing what?”

“He’ll join the crew.”

Poe gapes to the ground, eyes empty with terror.

“How long is that going to take?” Kay asks. He should have kept a closer eye on Poe. Their father shouldn’t have let him gallivant, day after day. This shouldn’t have happened.

“Don’t know. No one’s ever had a debt that high before,” he laughs, and the other crewmates jeer along with him. “Poe here is young. He’s got plenty of time.” Their laughter rings through the cramped ship.

Feeling like a terrified kid and looking the part, Poe looks at his brother desperately. “I messed up, Kay.”

This isn’t fair. Poe is a good kid. And now he has to spend who knows how long paying an unpayable debt to these gangsters? Kay takes his brother’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“What if I were to join in his place?” Kay tells them. “I have skills, as you witnessed. He’s just a kid.”

“Kay, no,” Poe groans. Thankfully, the leader isn’t sold on Kay’s sacrifice.

“I don’t think I like the idea of the twerp getting off without consequence. Sorry, Doc. It’s his debt to burden. Besides, I’m sure he’s a quick learner. Aren’t you?” He shoves at Poe in an attempt to be playful. The brothers aren’t amused.

“Then let me join alongside him. I will work off the debt and you’ll have it paid in double time.” This is the only option. He can’t allow Poe to be enslaved by these animals with no backup.

The leader considers this. “You get no earnings?”

“Anything I receive goes to his debt.” Kay looks at his younger brother who hangs wearily with shame.

“Do you agree to this, boy? Let your brother here carry half your burden?”

Kay’s glare speaks volumes. _Just comply with their demands. It’s safer that way._

“I do,” Poe nods. He isn't a crier, but the slightest provocation could bring him to tears now.

The gang stands around them. “It’s settled then. Oh, and one more thing. Just in case you boys try to get smart with us.” The leader grabs Poe by his neck and before Kay can object, the leader sticks him with a device. Poe hisses in pain, hatred burning in his eyes. “Tracking beacon. We all have one. Your turn, Doc.”

Kay glowers and bares his neck, surrendering to the violation. The chip implants deep in the meat of his neck.

Later, the men sent a very loopy Kay back to retrieve his savings, all twelve thousand credits he worked tirelessly to save for school. Kay packed a meager bag of belongings. He’s selfishly grateful his mother isn’t home. He wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye. Because Poe’s home is on the opposite hemisphere, he packs a bag for Poe, an assortment of clothes that he’ll grow into. Kes will be so disappointed in them.

Back on the ship, he and Poe have been given a small room. It’s no bigger than his mother’s walk-in closet. Poe lies heavily on the top bunk. His face is red and splotchy. He’s been sobbing.

“Poe…I don’t know where to begin with all this.” Fury rises in his bloodlet veins. “How did this happen?”

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid!” Poe rages, kicking the wall. It clangs in hollow sympathy.

“How much did you really steal from them?”

“I took maybe five or six parts over the course of a few weeks. Other kids were doing it, too. Which is why they think I took it all. This crew is shit anyway. They let kids rob them blind. Just you wait. We’re not gonna make it two weeks with these clowns.”

“Or maybe that’s how they manipulate kids into joining their gang. You were just the fool who got caught.”

Poe kicks the wall again. “Did you really give them all your money?”

Kay’s silence serves as his answer.

“God, this isn’t happening,” Poe grovels, burying his face in his hands.

“You should have come to me before all of this. I could have helped you, given you some money. You didn’t need to steal.”

“No, no. That’s the thing, Kay. I didn’t sell any of it. I didn’t even need it. I just wanted to get the right parts for my mom’s old starfighter. Get it back running again. Besides, you were saving for school.” Bitter realization dawns on Poe. “Kay, what the hell are you doing? What about school? You shouldn’t have let them take you, too.”

“I made a choice.” It was a sacrifice he decided to make. “I couldn’t allow you to go on alone.”

Poe wants to scream. He doesn’t deserve Kay’s loyalty. “You should have let them just take me. I can do just fine on my own.”

“Clearly,” Kay says, without heat. He lies in the bottom cot, the pain from his neck shooting through his body.

Poe laughs, rumbling and hard until Kay starts to laugh, too. They laugh until it hurts, then they laugh some more.

Sobering, Poe blinks up at the rusted ceiling. “Did you tell Dad? Or your mom?”

Kay sighs. “We should call them. They’re going to be…” He can’t come up with the words. They’ll be furious at Poe for getting them trapped like this. They’ll be enraged that Kay went along with it. Most of all, they’ll be so, so disappointed that Kay wasn’t able to protect them.

\--

_22 ABY_

_The frigid mountainous planet of Kijimi_

Poe Dameron is twenty years old. His brother Kay Goron is twenty-four years old. Four years ago, they left their homeworld of Yavin 4. They haven’t been home since.

It has been a long, tiresome four years.

Their father’s attempts to call them has dwindled from every day, to every few weeks, to every few months. Kay’s mother will on occasion ask if they’re alright. Kay always supplies her with half-truths. She sees right through them.

As for the work they do for the gang—the Spice Runners of Kijimi—they run a lot of spice. Kay loathes every second Poe is forced to live like this, lying and stealing to serve their gang. He’s had to watch Poe grow into this life, into a new shape and a set of broad shoulders.

Over the years, they refined their skills. Poe flies so well that when he’s manning the controls, it makes the gang shoot and holler as if he were their equal. Kay patches up their men often, and since he’s joined, they haven’t lost any warriors.

Of course, they’ve learned new skills. They are experts with blasters, hotwiring speeders, and running fucking spice. Certified scumbags.

Most of the members of their gang are vile, wretched lifeforms. However, there are a few exceptions, like the other youths who got nabbed in a similar scheme. Zorii is about Poe’s age. She keeps her identity behind a mask, something Kay wishes they’d allow Poe to do. Thankfully Zorii runs with another smaller cohort of Spice Runners. She and Poe became friends. It’s best that they don’t share the same leader. Their leader would treat her worse than he treats Poe.

One bitter evening, their gang is rips off a rival group. The con was long and difficult, but they’re hoping to end it quickly. Ending it quickly means bloodshed.

They’re nowhere near close to paying off Poe’s 1.4 million credits, especially since the splendor of their work is split amongst their gang by rank. Kay and Poe are always left with the smallest portions. At this rate, they’ll be doing this until they’re forty.

Kay stands at Poe’s side, hands around an enormous blaster. One that stretches almost a meter in length and has a strap to accommodate its weight. Poe’s blaster is handheld. He doesn’t use his baster as much as Kay does.

Their leader is spouting off the usual rhetoric he performs when they get to this point: the bad guys disarmed and on the floor with their pitiful leader up front, staring down their nose at them—also bad guys. Their gang normally takes their rival’s most valuable possessions and embarrass them with insults. Poe and Kay are always silent during this part, speaking only when necessary. They never get their kicks this way. They just want to survive.

The room is tense like a drawn bow. Their leader instructs the opposition to get on his knees and he aims his blaster for the man’s skull. Poe frowns. This is off script. They don’t execute their foes when they’ve surrendered. He learned a long time ago that their leader’s threats are mostly all talk.

“Sir,” Poe interjects.

“Something a matter, boy?” Their leader was not expecting this. He’s accustomed to the brothers’ stoicism. “Do you not want me to kill this man?” Their leader sneers at them, knowing exactly how to push the two youths’ buttons. When Poe can’t form the words, their leader turns to the room. “Oh, I see. Poe Dameron wants to kill this man himself!”

Their own scummy gang laughs along, a hivemind of evil bastards.

Poe pales, looking sick to his stomach. Is he really gonna kill for them? He isn’t the same kid that left Yavin 4. The years spaceside—shooting up rivals and Republic soldiers, the lying and the stealing—have hardened him into a man. But a full-on execution? It’s incorrigible.

Without warning, Kay steps forward. He holds his blaster to the pleading man’s forehead and looks him in the eye and pulls the trigger.

Poe is speechless. Of all the villainous acts they were forced to do, this was by far the worst.

“Forgive my brother,” Kay says soullessly. “He doesn’t have the stomach for this.” Kay is blank, inside and out.

He did what he had to do.

For the next few days, Poe is a zombie. A lot of days are like that, but this feeling is new. It’s as if the consequence of the last four years is finally bearing down on them. He doesn’t want to live like this anymore.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Kay remarks, boots thudding heavily into their shoebox room. Poe lies on his bunk, staring off into space.

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” Kay condemns.

“Maybe they’ll put it towards my tab.”

Kay frowns deeply, peeling off his outer layers. He knows that the events with the gang the other day is a burden on Poe’s mind. “I had to kill that man.”

Poe shoots up. “No, you didn’t. _I_ had to.”

“I’m sure they’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to kill more unarmed men.”

“How can you just talk about it like it’s nothing?” Poe grimaces, disgusted with himself, with this whole mess that is their lives.

“It had to be done.”

“Have you ever done that before?” Some days, Kay goes out with their leaders and he comes back with the light extinguished from his eyes.

Kay has killed before. He’s been doing it for years. His medical training has gifted him with lifesaving skills but has cursed him with knowledge on how to most effectively slice someone open or shoot someone so that they either die instantly or painfully slow.

“Never,” Kay lies. He doesn’t lie to Poe often, but when he does, it’s when Poe asks questions about what Kay does for the gang when Poe isn’t around.

Poe always believes his big brother. He doesn’t know how to lie like Kay, so he can’t pick apart any bit of Kay’s secrets. “I could have done it,” Poe mutters.

“No. You couldn’t have,” Kay says sternly, in the way that makes him sound like an overbearing father. Kay wishes their father was overbearing. Maybe Poe would have been too afraid to steal and they wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.

Poe hangs his head. Kay, of course, is right. He could never kill someone like that, point blank, in cold blood.

But Kay could. No hesitation. It was chilling, seeing him like that. Icy and remorseless like a droid.

“Are we gonna do this forever?” Poe laments. He’s asking Kay, the universe, anyone who will listen and give him hope.

Kay meets his eye. “No.”

\--

Three weeks later, Poe wakes up in the back of their crew’s backup shuttle. The only other occupant is Kay, who is staring at the controls in deep contemplation.

Poe looks around, having no memory of how they got here. He searches his scrambled-egg mind. He remembers being on their ship and looking for Kay when a sharp thwack sent him to the floor, unconscious.

“Kay, what’s going on?” he asks gravelly, rubbing his sore head.

Kay jumps, as if he forgot he wasn’t alone. He gapes out at the lights of hyperspace ribboning across the transparisteel.

“Kay?”

“It’s over,” Kay tells him, meeting his eyes.

“What?”

“One of our enemies found us. They knocked you out cold. I hid and found you. I took the shuttle. They blew up our ship.” A pause. “Everyone is dead,” Kay tells him mechanically, reading lines off a script. Poe’s eyes widen at the fat bandage on Kay’s neck. Kay removed the tracking chip. He palms his own neck, finding his own stitched up wound.

Poe sinks to the copilot’s chair. “Is it really over?” He’s so elated he doesn’t think twice about the holes in Kay’s story, the missing time. He’s just so glad that it’s over. He laughs with disbelief. “It’s over. It’s over!” Poe hops up and barrels over Kay’s wide shoulders. After a moment, Kay reciprocates, holding his little brother close.

“Oh my god, it’s over,” Poe breathes, sinking back into the chair. “Can we go home?”

Kay smiles, but there’s a yawning darkness behind his eyes. Can he really go home? He feels so different. An irrational fear overcomes him, that if his mother were to lay eyes on him, he would be unrecognizable.

\--

_35 ABY_

_At the Resistance base on the outer rim moon of Ajan Kloss_

Poe Dameron is 33 years old. He went from hotheaded kid, to reluctant gangster, to Republic commander, to Resistance hotshot pilot, to Resistance general. Today, the Resistance won. Palpatine was finally defeated, the First Order crippled. His best friend Finn is safe, and well, and a hero. One of the first things he does after he grapples him into a rib-crushing hug is promote him. General and General. It suits him. He embraces Rey, too. Without her, they would all be damned.

Poe disentangles from the embrace. He looks for dear faces in the cheering crowd. Off to the side, with the slightest smile on his mustached face, is his beloved brother Kay.

Kay Goron is 37 years old. He went from medical student, to reluctant gangster, to Republic nurse because the training was shorter and cheaper, until he and his brother defected to the Resistance. Here, he earned the title of lead medic. He’s patched up Poe countless times, tended to Finn’s spine injury a few years back. Kay was here for it all, watching in awe as his kid brother climbed the ranks and blew the First Order to hell.

Poe hugs him like how he used to when they were kids, saying goodbye at the end of their summers together: arms wrapped tight and face buried in his neck. Kay cups his head, rocking them to the side. The sins of the past are long forgotten, at least momentarily. They’ve won.

“General,” Kay grins in that way that crinkles his whole face. The wrinkles are how Poe knows his brother is truly happy. “I’m so proud. Your mother would be proud, too.”

Poe’s throat is in knots. “Your dad would have been proud of you, too,” Poe tells him. He means their dad, yes, but he also he means the father who raised Kay and died young, the one who’s death brought them together. “I wouldn’t even be alive today if it weren’t for you,” Poe tells him, saying everything with those words.

Kay takes his hand and cups Poe’s head, jostling him. “You’re a good man.”

Poe is about to follow up with a ‘so are you,’ but before he can get a chance, his comm blinks with red alert.

_“Poe! Do you copy? This is Tico. I repeat, do you copy?”_

Dread snaps him out of the celebration. He grabs for his comm, breaking eyes with Kay. “This is Poe. Go ahead.”

_“I found something. In a First Order escape pod. Ugh, smells like something died in here! We need medical. He’s in terrible shape. I’m sending you the coordinates.”_

Poe looks at his handheld and sees that whatever Rose found was about a kilometer west from here. “You should get your team. Let’s go.” Poe slaps Kay’s arm.

Kay dutifully follows.


	3. Infected

Kay pilots the open-platform speeder to the coordinates, Poe at his side and two of his medics at his rear.

“If this is who I think it is, I’m gonna lose it,” Poe grumbles.

“Who do you think it is?” Kay asks.

“Our spy.”

Kay scrunches in puzzlement. “Is that not a good thing?”

“No, Kay. It is a very _not good thing_. This guy is a piece of…work.”

Regardless of his brother’s testimony, Kay focuses on the task at hand, consulting Poe’s handheld as he drives the speeder at an appropriate speed for the rugged terrain. “We’ll be there shortly. I trust you can be on your best behavior.”

“Always,” Poe says bitchily.

They stop at the pod wreckage. The team hops off the speeder and meets Rose at the open hatch. Kay is the first to the injured man, ignoring Poe’s soft ‘dammit,’ thus confirming this is his spy. Ignoring Poe’s griping and the terrible stench coating the man, Kay secures a neck brace on him and lifts him up and out of the pod. The man isn’t terribly heavy, so he goes easily to the gurney beside them. Kay straps him in gingerly, mindful of his leg.

“Your spy is a wreck,” Kay tells Poe and Rose, once they’re in route to base. “How long has he been out here?”

“He landed a few hours ago,” replies Rose. Kay looks at her with exasperation, to which she shrugs. “We were busy. You know, with the final battle and everything.”

“We will need a lot of space. I’m not sure what we’re looking at here,” Kay says, grimacing at the state of the man’s leg. He calls back to base, informing the other medics to clear their largest operating room.

“Kay, I’m gonna need you to keep an eye on him. This man is extremely dangerous,” Poe tells him.

“This man is injured,” Kay argues. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Back on base, the team escorts Kay to the operating room, their patient floating on the gurney in tow. They secure the gurney to the operating table. Kay watches the man’s pale face for movement. When there is none, he begins to strip the patient of his filthy uniform.

Kay gets through the first layer of his top, but when he attempts to remove the man’s pants, the man seizes awake.

“No, don’t! Don’t touch me!” wails his delirious patient. The man coils into himself, face contorted in the brace and cowering on his side, desperately protecting himself from an invasion. Kay falters, concern climbing new heights.

“Get the sedative ready,” Kay tells one of his medics, taming the weariness from his voice. “Sir, can you hear me?” he says, elevated and clear for his patient’s ears.

“Who is this man? Does anyone know his name?” Kay asks the room.

“I believe that’s General Hux, of the First Order,” one of his medics helpfully supplies. Kay frowns. _This_ is General Hux? He allows himself a moment of contention. This is the General Hux who ordered the death of billions, the extermination of the Republic itself. Their colleagues, their friends, their families.

This panicked, injured man on his table is General Hux. But foremost, he is his patient and he is in dire need of care. Kay looms close so that his face fills the man’s vision.

“General Hux. Do you know where you are?” He is rewarded with tight lipped silence. “You are on Ajan Kloss, at the Resistance base. My name is Kay. I am here to help you.”

“What?” Hux grovels, trembling and on his side. The shakes dissipate. Kay fears that this man’s injuries are not just skin deep. His heart lulls with sadness. In his residency, he was told that if a person panics when medical professionals try to extricate them from their pants, he must alert a psychiatrist on staff. This time, he is the only one in the Resistance with counseling experience. He holds up his hands, yielding as General Hux protects himself. It is hard to watch.

“You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you. I need you to lie back so we can check on your leg,” Kay tells him calmly.

Hux makes a small, helpless noise in his throat. Slowly, he unwinds. He lies back, making himself flat as a board. His wet, bloodshot eyes blink around the room. They land on Kay, who offers a consoling smile.

“I’m…I made it to the base,” Hux says wearily.

“You did. Will you let me remove your clothing?”

Hux peers down at himself. He grimaces, as if the state of his clothing affects him more than the open wound on his leg. “I feel disgusting.”

“You smell it, too,” Kay tries to play with him, knowing some patients react well to banter when under severe stress. Hux outright scowls. Either Hux does not like to be teased about his appearance, or he really doesn’t do well with humor in a stressful situation. Nevertheless, he needs to get to work. “We are going to sedate you, now,” he tells him.

“Don’t. I need to be awake.” Hux lays flat. “Go on. Cut them off if you must.”

Kay nods, and proceeds. “Prepare local anesthetic,” he amends, opting to trim down the hem of Hux's pants instead of prying for his fly. A veil of weariness drapes over his patient. “This will only take a second,” Kay assures him. He hastens the scissors and strips the entire pant leg. The bandage comes off and Hux whimpers. He loathes pain.

Kay examines the leg. It’s deeply infected. The wound is gnarled with necrosis, oozing black and flame red. “Tell me everything that happened,” he demands, simultaneously preparing an intravenous injection of antibiotics. The anesthetic is next, and the relief blossoming across Hux’s pale face is informs him it’s doing its job.

“I got shot by a blaster in my thigh. Then, I got shot by another blaster in the chest with a blaster vest on, and I escaped execution by falling through a disgusting garbage compactor.”

Kay nods. “I need to run some tests. In the meantime, we need to get you cleaned.”

Hux lies back, closing his eyes. What horrors will the tests reveal? Does he have some sickly parasite?

Kay orders his medics to help him with the remaining clothing. At their looming presence, Hux flinches violently against his will. _Idiot,_ Kay berates himself. He should be the one to do this part. “Both of you, please take a sample and run in through diagnostics. We need to find out what is decaying the tissue.” The phrasing makes Hux scowl. Yes, Kay is indeed an idiot twice over.

The other two medics comply without hesitation, taking a sample from the leg. He instructs them to leave while Kay takes care of cleaning the wound, and the rest of the filth coated general.

“I’m going to elevate your leg and then I will bring over the hose.” There is no tub, since there is a drain on the floor.

Hux flushes at the thought of being hosed down like an animal. By a Resistanceman, no less. He’s ready forgotten this man’s name.

“Remind me your name,” he barks, like he’s back aboard the Finalizer, back when he had authority. It was losing that authority that brought him here. It was Kylo Ren’s fault. He still doesn’t know if the aid he gave to the Resistance got Ren killed. He prays it did.

Kay raises his brows. He can be very expressive when he chooses to be. “I’m Kay.” He extends a hand for Hux to shake. Hux looks surprised. But he shakes it. Hux’s hand is smaller and soft like someone who has worn gloves their entire life.

Hux releases the man’s mammoth hand. He doesn’t trust men like this, men who are robust and large. They lord their strength like a weapon. So far, Kay has done nothing but help. But it’s only a matter of time before that changes.

He allows his leg to be elevated, the motion no longer agonizing. Kay helps him out of his shirts, and Hux grunts in protest from his aching ribs. Then, Hux is shirtless, and he just wants this over with so he can be clean.

Graciously, Kay says nothing as he continues stripping him bare, reducing his once pristine uniform to filthy tatters. Hux leaves his small, black, standard First Order briefs where they are, and Kay does not suggest they be removed. Hux lies back, not looking at the man’s face.

Behind him, Kay silently prepares the hose. He prepares a suitable temperature for his patient. Kay starts with Hux’s hair, the sterile spray returning it to vibrant red. He closes his eyes and the spray cleanses his face of the grime. He gingerly removes the brace, and performs a simple exam, determining that Hux doesn’t need any further support at his neck.

Kay meticulously sprays Hux every inch, working to preserve his modesty by letting Hux take the hose in his hands for his genitals. Hux grimaces, spraying himself in between his legs. The filth coats him in intimate places. Kay does have to assist with his bottom, however, and Hux zones out for that part.

Once Hux is cleaned, Kay pats him dry with towels. Hux does more of this part, despite his injuries. He just feels silly letting another person dry him like a dog, especially after having been hosed down like one.

Kay helps him into a medical gown, and Hux is grateful to be covered. “We can trim your shorts off, too. It could still retain contaminants.”

Hux tugs the gown lower. “Alright.”

Instead of Kay taking it upon himself to remove his underwear, he passes the scissors to Hux. Carefully, he takes them and trims them away, keeping his genitals safely covered.

“I’m going to clean the wound.” Kay sets his leg back down from its elevation.

Hux stares at the ceiling, breathing evenly while his heart races unnaturally. He isn’t panicked anymore. Perhaps it is a side effect of the drug. Lolling his head, he peers to the man at his leg. Kay is professional, and for that he is grateful. He tells Hux what he is going to do next, making this whole ordeal bearable.

Almost twenty minutes later, Kay has cleaned the wound thoroughly. He looks at his patient. Hux looks incredibly green. Concerned, Kay stands and comes to his side.

“How are you feeling?”

Hux tries to speak, but he can’t form a syllable. His heart is galloping. Strong fingers prod at the glands of his neck. He closes his eyes. He barely registers the injection before he passes out cold.

Kay exhales as he connects the unconscious patient to the vitals status monitors. Once Hux is secured and stabilized, Kay allows himself to think.

Hux’s infection and his rapid, paralyzing response to the infection is extremely abnormal. Only certain bacteria have these side effects. Kay steps outside to consult his two assistants.

He’s seen an infection like this before, back on Yavin 4 during his internship back when he was undergoing advanced medical training. Laborers who worked in septic systems were exposed to an extremely rare but aggressive form of flesh-eating bacteria. If this infection is what he suspects it to be, then there may be only one option to save Hux’s life.

“What are we looking at?” Kay asks, bracing himself for impact.

“Not good. We are running some more tests, but we fear the worst. Wherever he fell into must have been a bacterial breeding ground. Several cultures are responding well to the antibiotics. But there’s an aggressive bacterium eating him from the inside.”

Kay considers the options. “I’ve seen infections like this before. We need to get a sample from his femur. If the bacteria haven’t reached his bone, then he still has a chance.”

The other medic frowns. “A chance he’ll keep his leg?”

“A chance he may live.” Kay slips a hair cover over his head. “His leg is already lost. Prepare the surgical laser.”

\--

Hux dreams of a trap. A small, suffocating trap with four walls, cold and dark. He shouts, but there is no noise from his throat. He cries, but there are no tears from his eyes. He feels hands on him, violating and cruel. The hands on him constrict his throat, squeezing.

Hux wakes, gasping for air. Dim, yellow lights glimmer overhead. Hux sighs in relief. It was just another nightmare. Normally he’s medicated enough to undergo dreamless sleep. But he hasn’t taken his medication. He’s merely stressed from the events of the day. Thankfully he doesn’t feel anything below the waist.

He looks down at his leg. Puzzlement afflicts him. The view of his leg is blocked by a solid barrier, a sheet taut on a set of rods. Hux lays back down, breathing. He’s with the Resistance. They must still be working on him.

Muffled shouting pulls him back into the room. It’s a different room than the first. It appears to be an infirmary with several other empty beds along the walls. Hux eyes the door. The window doesn’t reveal much, just flickering shadows. He jumps a bit when the door swings open, revealing his medic, Kay. Hux catches a glimpse of the other man in the hall. Ugh. Poe Dameron.

Thankfully, Poe doesn’t enter the room after his medic. Hux lies back and hopes for good news. He feels rather well. 

“How are you feeling? Any nausea or headaches?” Kay asks him while reading the screen of his vitals.

“A little of both. But I already feel better.”

Kay nods. “That’s good. You had an aggressive infection. You’ve been asleep for almost twenty hours.”

Twenty hours? And this sheet is still up? “Did the procedure go as planned?”

“Your infection nearly killed you. What you are about to hear will be very difficult. But I want you to know this was the only way to save your life.”

Hux’s face goes blank, fire in his eyes. “What is it?”

“The infection you had was enormously aggressive and would certainly result in your death if we hadn’t done what we did.” Kay pauses, watching the tremors flicker through Hux’s pale face.

Kay sits on the nearby stool, rolling to his patient’s side. “We had to remove your leg. It was the only way to save your life.”

Hux is silent and unblinking. For a moment, Kay wonders if he’s short circuited. Hux’s green eyes are glossing with unshed tears, but he’s holding Kay’s gaze like he’s waiting for him to continue.

“The good news is that we tested your bone, and you are free of infection, and you’ll live.”

The waifish cage of Hux’s chest flutters heavily. Hux blinks, snapping back to reality. “Let’s see it, then,” he tells Kay, just above a whisper.

Kay stands and unhooks the sheet he installed. The sheet was the most humane way he could think of to break the news to his patient. It was clear to him that Hux has had horrifying things done to his body in the past.

The curtain is swept aside. In place of Hux’s leg is a bandaged stump. The severance is just shy of halfway down his thigh. Kay kept as much as he could, but the wound was very high.

Hux stares at the asymmetrical horror before him.

Kay wishes the Resistance had the resources to install an artificial limb before his patient even looked down at the void where his leg once was. But they don’t have the means. And according to his brother and their unseemly argument in the hall a moment ago, his patient is their prisoner, and they will be doing him no expensive favors.

Hux crumbles like weathered ruins. His face twists, and he brings his hand to cover his mouth. A noise like he’s been struck escapes between thin fingers.

Kay balls the sheet in his hands, allowing Hux to experience his grief.

“What have you done to me?!” Hux shrieks, searing Kay with his tearful, red faced glare.

“I know this must be difficult, but it was a matter of life and death,” Kay persists.

“Get out. Get out, now!” Hux wails, fisting the bedsheets.

Quickly, Kay moves out of the room, giving the man some much needed space.

When Hux is alone, he breaks down into hysterical tears. He’s a deformed, pathetic, invalid. The Resistance made this happen. They are punishing him. This is a cruel torture, even for them.

With a trembling hand, Hux palms his horrid stump. He’s disgusting. Disfigured. This does not feel like his own body. He tries to wiggle all ten of his toes, but only five of them respond.

Hux sinks into the thin mattress, wrapping his tactile mind around this horrific turn of events. The sewage. Hux didn’t have the time to properly heal the blaster wound. He was the one who was trying to sell the ‘they shot me and got away’ shtick, a desperate attempt to evade punishment for his treason. His plan to evade execution was a success. He got away. He only managed to lose an entire leg in the process.

The Resistanceman said his leg wound was infected. If he hadn’t fallen into that garbage compactor, maybe he would still be intact. Of course, if he hadn’t fallen into the compactor, he’d surely be dead for good this time.

Hux shuffles on the bed, eager to escape this prison. But in place of four walls and a lock, his prison is his own body. Was he truly worth saving if he’s to live like this? There is the possibility of a prosthesis. But those aren’t cheap, and his earnings from within the First Order have been reclaimed, a standard consequence of treason. Plus, he is already a prisoner of the Resistance, and they will undoubtedly deny any requests for a replacement leg. Now, he’s more vulnerable than ever before.

Thirty minutes of silence fills the room. A knock comes through the door.

“You may enter,” Hux says primly, as if this were his private quarters. Kay steps in, expression neutral. It’s not guilt that stings him, so much as embarrassment for his behavior. The Resistance will use this torment against him. He must remain levelheaded. He turns his nose up at his disfigured lower half. He longs for the time when his only horror was the sewage soaking his clothes.

Kay approaches his bedside. “I need to check your bandages. I also need to give you more painkillers for your ribs. You suffered a few fractures, but they will heal with time.” He’s properly professional.

“Alright.” Hux stares at the medic’s profile while he works, avoiding the unbearable horror that lies beneath the bandages. He observes the man’s tanned skin, his dark eyes, his uneven stubble and mustache. His medic is excruciatingly gentle as he studies the healing tissue.

After a moment of silent scrutiny, Kay wraps up the stump in fresh bandages. “You are healing well.”

“Is it already starting to grow back?” Hux sneers, not thinking. The preposterousness of the situation is getting the best of him, childishness slipping out in wake of his broken spirit.

Kay’s brow creases, as if perhaps he missed an important aspect of General Hux’s anatomy. He’s hit with disbelief. It was a joke.

“I’m afraid that I’m not that skilled of a healer,” Kay shakes his head, smiling a little.

Hux loathes to be a part of a friendly conversation with these people. His alliance was circumstance. Nothing more. “I assume I’m not free to go?”

Kay prepares a vial for injection into his intravenous line. “You need to recover. There will be an extensive adjustment period,” he states. The painkillers flow warmly into Hux’s vein. “Our leaders are remiss to let you go.”

Figures he would evade execution only to end up a prisoner. A handicapped one, at that.

Kay sets the tube down gently, observing the pained countenance of his patient. He waits for Hux to say what’s on his mind.

“What happens now?” Hux asks the wall.

“We will transition you to a private room.”

“A cell?”

“A cell,” Kay confirms.

Hux’s bladder strains with familiar pressure. He felt it earlier but could not face the idea of how he’s going to relieve himself.

“We are going to make you comfortable. I will bring you a meal shortly,” Kay says, tidying up the table by his patient’s side. Hux’s eyes are on him like glue. “Do you require anything at the moment?” Kay is a good medic. He would have been a good doctor, if life hadn’t gotten in the way.

Hux says nothing. He waits until Kay is almost out the door to interrupt his retreat. “Wait.”

Kay pauses, closing the door.

“I need to…use the toilet,” he grates. What a creative and thorough punishment this ordeal is.

“Of course. Have you used a bedpan before?” Kay rifles through the bottom shelf where they keep them.

A bedpan? Is this man insane? Hux would never, ever piss in such a device. Kay must be trying to worsen his trauma. “I still have one damned leg. Get me to the toilet. I can do the rest.”

“As your medic, I am going to have to insist on the bedpan. Your ribs are still healing. If I were to lift you, it may injure you further.”

“I am not going to piss in a pan,” Hux objects. He may be giving the man more fodder to torture him with, but he doesn’t care. He’s already been degraded so deeply. He won’t give another inch.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Hux sneers.

Kay exhales, scratching at his neatly trimmed mustache. “I will go find a wheelchair.”

Hux sinks as Kay leaves to retrieve the chair. When he returns, Hux groans inwardly. The chair has large, rudimentary wheels and looks as if it’s been in use since the fall of the Empire.

“I’m going to lift you into this chair,” Kay tells him. He is careful to tell him everything he’s planning to do to him, especially if it involves contact.

Hux nods, preparing himself. Bending slightly, Kay loops Hux’s thin arm over the span of his shoulders. Before he and Poe joined the Resistance, he was leanly muscled. They put on the muscle mass because all members of the Resistance contribute labor to their bases. His physique is coming in use now, as he has no issue lifting one-legged First Order defectors into wheelchairs.

“Didn’t think that it would actually have wheels,” Hux scowls, letting himself be picked up by the aggravatingly strong Resistanceman. He reddens with humiliation as he feels an arm scoop him off the bed. He’s placed into the chair, already dizzy from his permanent imbalance.

Kay wheels him to the single stall refresher. “I’m going to place you on the seat.”

“No. I can stand,” Hux snaps.

“You may not have the strength—”

“ _Please_ ,” Hux begs, against his will. He never begs for anything, ever.

Kay, too, understands Hux is not accustomed to pleading. He holds Hux up by his shoulders, guiding him to his foot. Hux gasps from the effort. He’s only just begun to regain feeling in his leg. He aches from deep fatigue, trembling with effort to do something as simple as standing. Kay tries to anchor him to the right place, but the angle is all off. He _hops,_ feeling disgusting and foolish, whimpering in exhaustion.

Hux attempts to support himself on the wall in front of him, on the bars, too. But his exhaustion is bone deep. He needs Kay’s capable hands under his shoulders, propping him up like a toddler.

“I can’t—” Hux cuts himself off, close to tears.

“I can hold you here. It’s alright.”

Hux’s stomach lurches. Hux tries and tries to force himself to urinate, but it won’t expel. It’s possible to perform like this with eyes on him. The pressure in his bladder is unbearable, and he simply wants to die.

“I-I can’t…just sit me down,” he grovels, way past appearances now.

Kay swivels him around and sets him down gently. He holds himself up on the side rail installed into the wall, his stump parted uselessly to the side. Without another word, Kay leaves him to do his business.

Outside, Kay changes the sheets to the cot. Poe wants to keep Hux as prisoner indefinitely. While he did explain that Hux saved Poe, Finn, and Chewie from execution after serving as a spy for several months, Poe made it clear that his alliance was superficial. Hux had his own agenda, a vendetta against Kylo Ren, his sworn enemy. Now, Ren is dead, and Hux has no one to hate, and nothing to tie him to the Resistance. General Hux is still a fascist, despite what his actions show, and despite the sad state he is currently in.

The refresher breaks its silence with a flush. Kay finishes the hospital corners on the fresh sheet and heads over to help Hux back in his chair. Before he can make it to the door, a sudden thud and clang alerts him of distress. Kay swings open the refresher door, finding the wheelchair tipped over and Hux on his side at the foot of the toilet, scowling in contempt and shame.

“Did you slip?” Kay asks, righting the wheelchair. He scoops Hux up from the shoulder to stand on his lone leg.

Hux goes willingly into his chair, grimacing in humiliation. “I was trying to make it to the chair. I thought I could,” he says defensively. He holds his chin high, tears glazing his tired eyes. Existing like this is unbearable.

“You shouldn’t move unless you’re sure you can make it. This is how serious injuries occur.”

Hux worries his fists tightly, fingernails scraping his palms. This is no way to live. He feels as if he’s trapped in a cage under water, lungs burning in his chest.

“When am I being moved to my cell?” Hux chokes, tempering the powerlessness from his once-confident voice.

“The generals will have us move you shortly. For now, I am keeping you on the cot.”

“I don’t want to lie down on the cot.” Bound like a bedridden old man. Oh, how he has fallen.

“The chair, then,” Kay compromises. He’s never had such a combative patient.

“Generals?” Hux asks, going back to Kay’s admission. “General Organa and who?”

“General Dameron and General Finn. General Organa has passed.”

Hux pinches his tired eyes with his fingers. Of course, the two Resistance scoundrels who he _saved from execution_ are promoted and in charge of this whole charade. The First Order defector, Finn as he’s called, was also the reason he is sitting in this chair being doted on by this mustached medic.

His treachery put him in this chair, and he was the cause of his banishment and utter devastation to his reputation. The Resistance has won everything. He has nothing. He is less than nothing.

He should have let Pryde finish the job.

“I’m going to bring you something to eat. I’ll also consult with our leaders about the next steps to your time here,” Kay tells him, but the words fall to deaf ears. Hux has already decided his next step.

Once Kay leaves him alone, carefully locking the door behind him, Hux pushes himself over to the cot and yanks off the crisp sheet. He tears the sheet in half, then into a long strip, fashioning it into a noose.

\--

Kay marches down the hall, unease tightening his shoulders. He finds Poe with Finn sitting close as they look at something on their shared screen.

“May I request an update on the plans for your spy?” Kay interrupts.

“We’re planning to keep him in the cell two floors below,” Finn tells him.

“That’s excessive. The man had his leg amputated. He can’t even stand.”

“We can’t risk losing him. His condition can be used as leverage,” Poe tells him. “We are willing to fund a limb if he chooses to cooperate with us.”

Kay knows that Poe wouldn’t lord a condition of this nature over just anyone. But Hux is a criminal. He’s had his hand in the worst genocides known to the galaxy. By Finn’s account, Hux only decided to help the Resistance and betray his people to spite Kylo Ren. Now that Kylo Ren is dead, they need to find other avenues to bolster Hux’s compliance. Hux’s help as spy was crucial in defeating Ren and Palpatine. With his invaluable intelligence, they can finally squander the First Order’s remaining outposts and planetside enemy occupation.

“I understand,” Kay says. “I’m going to prepare him a meal. Give us twenty minutes and I can escort him to the lower level.”

Minutes later, Kay returns to the medical wing with a tray of warm soup. He pushes the door with his back.

The tray splatters noisily to the ground.

Hux is slumped forward, bound by his neck to the wire frame of the cot and slinking low on his lone leg. Kay shucks the wheelchair to the side and hastily attempts to untie him while propping him up, his slight body uncharacteristically heavy. No pulse. The knots are too tight, so the small surgical scissors on the countertop will have to do. Kay makes it work and frees Hux from the contraption of his own making.

This is a first for Kay. He’s never had a patient attempt a suicide in his care. He doesn’t allow himself to grovel, instead focusing on reviving Hux’s dead heart.

Kay begins rigorous resuscitation, aligning Hux’s bruised neck, pinching his nose shut and filling his lungs with hot air, mouth-to-mouth. He pumps at Hux’s chest, knowing full well this will break those cracked ribs. Just when he feels a sickening crunch, Hux gasps awake, green eyes round and red.

Kay props up the writhing man in his arms, his shirt twisting as Hux claws at his chest.

Hux burns and burns from the inside out. “Just breathe,” a stern voice orders. The owner of the voice is cradling Hux as if he were a small child as his coughs and gasps fade to uneven wheezes. Disorientation and pain bring him closer to the foreign comfort of this stranger. His pale hand pets desperately across the chest and up to the warm skin of a neck. He opens his eyes, seeing nothing through the fog of leaking tears.

“Breathe,” repeats the calming voice. Hux compiles, breathing shallowly and scrubbing the tears from his eyes.

He isn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to die.

“Why did you do that?” Hux laments once he can speak, turning to glare at his tormentor. Of course. This damned mustached medic with the square jaw and broad shoulders. And he’s in the man’s lap. Under normal circumstances, he would loath being this close to anyone. But having reluctantly been brought back from death is calling to his primitive senses. The medic is warm and secure.

Kay doesn’t know how to properly answer that question. He decides on, “It’s my duty. You’re my patient.” Also, the obvious. It was the right thing to do. Surely Hux knows this.

He doesn’t. No one has ever saved his life, certainly not a Resistanceman and definitely not twice in as many days. Hux is still in shock, not fully aware of the gravity of what he just attempted to do.

“It hurts,” Hux whimpers, finally regaining control of his scrabbling hands. He tries to scoot away from the grounding wall of Kay’s chest, but a renewed ache in his torso holds him still. He lays his palm flat on his own chest.

“I had to restart your heart. Mouth to mouth and chest compressions. Your ribs broke. I need to get you back on the bed.” Kay is careful to explain what his procedures entailed.

Hux grimaces, as if the lifesaving performance was another violation. It was, essentially. He doesn’t want to live anymore. Not like this. He didn’t want to be saved and most definitely not by some Resistance hero’s kiss of life.

Without another word, Hux is lifted onto the bed. Kay lays him back gently and instructs him to lie still as he tugs a shock blanket over his bottom half. A cold press of a stethoscope slips under his shirt.

“Though your ribs are broken, your lungs are intact. We will retrieve some images of the affected areas. For now, you’ll take pain killers and the standard regenerative enzyme for a break like this. Surgery is unlikely.”

“Do you only know how to talk like a damned droid,” Hux scowls, voice hoarse, beyond exhausted from the day’s toll.

The comment makes Kay look away from his diligent preparation of his patient’s meds. “It’s important that as your caregiver, I maintain impartiality.”

This man who saved his life—once by severing his festering limb, and twice by resuscitating him—is only doing a job. Performing what is required of him. His care is feigned, and the realization makes Hux feel impossibly lonelier.

“I’d like it if I was left alone,” he tells the medic, staring out at the space in front of him.

“With all due respect, I am not planning on leaving you alone. Not without restraints.” Then, Kay’s professional façade slips. He regards Hux with unbridled concern. He’s a medical professional. It’s his job. In a past life, he was a trained killer. Now, he values life. Human, criminal, and otherwise. “You tried to end your life, and nearly succeeded,” he scolds, making Hux meet his stern eye.

Hux swallows, unable to look away. Yes, he’s deeply ashamed he tried to kill himself. But a greater part of him is ashamed that he failed.

“If you’ll allow me,” Kay begins, tempering the contempt from his voice, “I will prescribe antidepressants. They may help. Your mind and body are undergoing a tremendous amount of stress.”

Hux closes his eyes. He’s no stranger to medications like those. They always made him sluggish and dull. He nods, the motion worrying the bruise formed on his neck. He can’t imagine looking at himself in a mirror, not for a long time.

Kay completes his work in silence, feeling Hux’s tired eyes on him, like his patient is trying to solve a puzzle.

“Will you tell them?” Hux asks, looking dreadfully at him.

Bizarrely, Kay considers this, as if withholding information on the physical and mental health of a prisoner would be an act worth committing for a man like Hux—against his own brother, one of the acting leaders of the Resistance.

“I must,” Kay says finally, not expecting the doubt in his heart. He supposes that he’s witnessed a great deal of fragility in this man, and discretion is the one thing he asked for. “They’ll see your bruises.” Kay doesn’t know what’s telling him to say this, but he quickly follows up with a smirk. “They’ll think that I tried to strangle you, or at the very least you bested me in a fight. And come on...I have my reputation to protect. No offense.”

Hux balks, eyes widening, having never expected such teasing from this man. He loathes to admit it, but it’s refreshing to not be treated like a waif. Of course, he’s been teased and tortured and pushed around by countless men, but Kay’s jibe is the first to not feel the least bit cruel. He studies Kay and the genuine way his face creases into an easy smirk.

Kay’s heart leaps in delight as his patient hums in response, rather than radiating contempt. “Sit tight,” Kay says, patting Hux’s remaining knee from under his shock blanket. “I’m going to put you in some mild restraints as I leave the room to get a mop for the mess I just made of your dinner. They’re temporary, and I’ll take them off as soon as I get back. Is that alright with you?”

Hux’s brow furrows. This is the first time he’s ever been asked such a question. He nods, watching intently as Kay sets up the restraints. Hux’s wrists are secured, and the panic he expects never comes. He takes in Kay’s reassuring smile, his broken heart faltering at the man’s sincerity.

But surely, the man is just doing his job.


	4. Healing

Once the mess at the door is cleaned and the droid has completed taking a full skeletal scan of Hux, Kay sets Hux up with a fresh bowl of soup. Hux is grateful, going as far as thanking him softly. Kay helps him sit up and sets the tray in his uneven lap. Hux is immensely relieved that he can still do something as simple as this.

“I will be moving you to a more comfortable room. After you’re finished eating, I will set up the restraints in your new room.”

Hux grimaces at the thought. How long will he have to sit restrained? Just long enough to ensure he won’t try to kill himself again?

“I’m afraid the restraints are required until myself and our medical droid deems it fit you can be trusted not to hurt yourself. It’s called being under suicide watch,” Kay clarifies, noting how the tension slips from Hux’s shoulders as he explains procedures in detail.

Before Kay moves him, he makes a point to evaluate the skeletal imagery that the droid dumped onto his computer screen. As he suspected, Hux has suffered clear breakages on two of his center ribs because of resuscitation. Kay frowns, evaluating the other ribs. They’ve all been broken and healed, some multiple times. His arms are the same, specifically his forearms and wrists. There’s a healed break to his left clavicle, and remodeled fractures around his ankle and shin. This man has been physically abused for quite some time, as far back as early childhood.

Kay doesn’t have the full story, nor will he require it from his patient anytime soon. But he knows for a fact that the fractures on his arms are evident of defensive maneuvers from physical beatings. His skin is near perfect and unbroken, concealing the hodgepodge of scars beneath. The finest medical care the First Order can supply him with could not remove the simple, tragic story inscribed in his bones.

It’s not his business. Armitage Hux is a war criminal and had a hand in countless murders of innocents. Though telling himself that again and again does little to quell the sadness in his heart. He thinks of how Hux reacted when he tried to take his pants off, to the ring of purple mottling his thin neck. Behind many victimizers are victims themselves. He aches for those who Hux had a hand in slaughtering, and he allows himself to ache for this broken soul on his table.

He wonders if Poe would share his feelings if he knew the trauma that inflicts their prisoner. And if he doesn’t, will he look at Kay differently for feeling anything but contempt for him?

Kay leaves Hux alone after securing the restraints. Hux lies back in his prison, rolling his ankle and breathing deeply as Kay instructed. He twitches the tender, prickling muscle of the remaining portion of his left leg, nausea rising as he watches the short movement. He truly feels deformed. Maybe it’s for the best that he is locked away. He doesn’t want others to see him in this wretched state.

Minutes or hours pass in the lonesome room. He tugs at the cuffs, but they do not give in the slightest. He swallows, throat aching with the motion. Would he attempt to injure or kill himself if given the opportunity? Privately, he tells himself no, for he does not want to see the contempt and disappointment in Kay’s eyes upon his inevitable failure.

\--

The interrogation doesn’t begin until the following week. Poe and Finn were deeply disturbed to hear of Hux’s failed suicide, but also agreed it was time to push him for answers, despite Kay’s objection. Kay’s only stipulation was that he be in the room to monitor his patient’s physical and mental status.

Kay steps into Hux’s cell. It’s a private room without windows, without bedsheets, and with the furniture fastened to the floor. There’s nothing he could possibly hurt himself with. His cot is low, so that he can easily transition from the chair to the mattress after some practice.

The clothing they gave Hux is snug enough so that he’s unable to take it off without assistance. _This way, we won’t need restraints_ , Kay had told him. Hux couldn’t help but feel like a child as he was encased in the fabric, trapped in his clothing, his chair, his room, and his crippled body. At least he’s no longer strapped to the bed.

Hux watches as Kay checks on the single stall, flipping on the light. “Were you able to manage using the toilet on your own? I had them put in larger rails.”

The idea of being incapable of using the toilet on his own still brings heated shame to his cheeks. “I have yet to try.”

“Would you be willing to try now?”

If there’s one thing this man has, it’s an ungodly amount of patience. Hux nods, wheeling himself clumsily to the stall. To add to his humiliation, the anti-suicide attire Kay fitted him with is essentially a cream colored, long sleeved dress. Pants-less so he could relieve himself unsupervised. He was not permitted underwear, either, lest he attempt to strangle himself with it.

The chair stops beside the toilet rail. He positions it like Kay directed him to. With all his strength, Hux uses his foot as an anchor and swings over from the chair to the toilet seat. Thrilled, he gives Kay a minute look of triumph.

“Excellent,” Kay claps once, beaming down at his haggard patient.

Hux looks away from Kay’s smiling face, the way it creases with sincerity. The more time he spends with the man, the more he believes that he is cared for, albeit superficially. He stares privately at Kay from behind as he leaves him to use the toilet, wondering not for the first time what Kay sees when he looks at him.

After he does his business, Hux hauls himself back into the chair. It requires a lot of effort, but he completes the task. He flushes the waste away, then wheels out to his cell. Kay is there and he gives Hux two thumbs up, grinning from ear to ear. Hux purses his lips in place of a smile.

“All good?” Kay asks his patient. Hux nods, and though ‘good’ isn’t at all how he feels, this is the closest he’s felt to it in a long time.

Kay tells Hux that it’s time to reapply the bacta gel on his neck. Hux’s heart always races at this part. Kay is, of course, very gentle and slow when he applies the salve. He’s careful to watch for signs of distress across Hux’s unblemished face as he rubs at his marred neck with gloved, diligent fingertips.

“The bruises will be gone in a few days. But Poe wishes to begin an interrogation today. I told him I will be in the room with you to mediate,” says Kay, peeling off his gloves.

“Oh,” Hux murmurs, watching Kay work. He dreads the idea of talking to a member of the loathsome Resistance, especially that cocksure Dameron. Kay is Resistance, too, Hux reminds himself. The contempt he feels for Dameron is worlds above any residual contempt he feels for Kay. Even if Kay is merely doing his job, he’s doing it incredibly well.

“Poe told me that the interrogation needs to begin promptly. But I will tell him to screw off if you aren’t ready.”

Hux eyes him, reveling in the candor. Kay is giving him a choice and implying that he’d support his decision. “Didn’t know that man was capable of complying with anyone’s orders.”

Kay snorts. “He’ll listen to me.” He supposes it’s wise to keep his relation to Poe from his patient. At least, for as long as he can.

Looking down to break Kay’s reassuring gaze, Hux fiddles with the knee length hem of his ridiculous anti-suicide dress. “I suppose it will be fine. I can speak. This won’t be too much trouble. As long as …you’ll be in the room.” Warm with mild embarrassment, Hux’s lip twitches. “To monitor my health. Or whatever,” he finishes primly.

Kay hums, reorganizing Hux’s medications. “Alright. After lunch, we’ll begin. It’ll be good to get you out of the house.”

Hilarious. Hux rolls his eyes, just missing how Kay smirks deviously. “Anything good in the kitchen?”

“Of course,” Kay says good-naturedly, leaving the room. Hux wheels himself over to the only thing of interest in the room besides the bed. It’s a small table with a wall lamp. The only thing on top of it is a stack of plain paper and a dull bit of charcoal. Kay explained that once he passes the psychological exam, he will be permitted pens. And then he can finally get some damned pants.

Later, Kay returns with his lunch. It’s soup again, but this time Kay has brought him a lump of bread to eat with it. He doesn’t notice or care how bland the meals here are, since they are the only events that he has to look forward to. He supposes he looks forward to speaking with his medic, too. But that may just be because Kay is his only human contact.

It’s a bit odd eating in front of someone like this. Although, he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He has done far more terrible things in front of the man.

“It’s time,” Kay tells him once he finishes his soup.

“Very well.” He could use a change of scenery.

Kay wheels him down the hall, up towards the lift that brings them up to ground level.

“No funny business while we’re up here. I’m not afraid to use deadly force,” Kay says, feigning sternness.

Hux doesn’t have to look up to know he is teasing. “I’ll try to restrain myself,” Hux says dryly. They’re joking again, and it doesn’t feel as bizarre as it should.

Hux parks in front of a table. “Here we are. Sit tight. I’ll go get the warden,” Kay says, patting Hux’s bony shoulder. Hux doesn’t dislike the friendly contact.

When Poe enters, he meets Hux’s glare full force. Hux says nothing, sitting erect in his ridiculous gown. He watches the door in his peripherals for Kay to return. But when the door opens, the youthful face of Finn greets him with a nod. Heart racing, Hux stares at the table. How foolish he feels before these men, cowering like a child. He feels small and helpless, all the while simmering with rage that not only are they the ones who put him in this chair and in his cell, but _he_ was the one who let them, twice over. He was the spy. The sniveling, conniving snake that gave aid to these Resistance scoundrels.

A minute passes in silence, and Hux’s anxiety bubbles low in his belly. He tries to mask it by angling his chin proudly, a habit he’s refined through years under Ren, Snoke, Brendol, and all the other men who made him feel like nothing.

A flash of relief floods him when the door opens to reveal Kay. Hux could shoot himself for the pathetic reaction to his presence. Nevertheless, he is grateful Kay kept his word.

“Apologies for the hold up, Generals,” Kay tells the room, eyeing Hux to indicate that he was included in the title. He grabs a chair and sets it beside Hux. Imperceptibly, Hux’s stiff spine relaxes.

“Let’s get started,” Finn says in a tone that implies _I mean business._ He places a small recording device on the spot in between them. Poe looks at him as if to say _‘really?’_ earning an unsaid _‘yeah, really.’_

Hux narrows his eyes at their exchange. Children.

“Why did you decide to betray the First Order?” Finn begins.

“I already told you,” Hux says. “I wanted Kylo Ren defeated. You all were my best bet. Surely I wasn’t mistaken.”

“Kylo Ren is dead,” Poe interjects.

Ren is dead? If Hux could get up and dance, he would. Wild joy creeps over his face. “Dead? Really? How did it happen? Did he suffer? Was it the girl? I _hope_ it was the girl that did him in,” he laughs, feeling free. Ren, his tormentor, _dead._ He never believed he would outlive that awful man. Now that he has, he feels fantastic.

Finn’s eyes widen a bit. “She did him, alright.”

“But he’s dead. That’s all that matters,” Poe emphasizes.

All of this surely has been worth it, if it means Ren is dead and gone. Hux exhales, beaming. “Well done. Congratulations,” Hux smiles. He connects eyes with Kay, who is looking at him strangely. “If you met the man, you would understand. He’s—he _was_ a truly terrible man. Sadist, masochist. Arrogant, unhinged. Absolute rancor.”

“Yeah, he’s kinda right,” Finn confirms.

“Total prick,” Poe concurs. Kay doesn’t respond. He’s only here to monitor his patient.

“Is that the only reason you betrayed the First Order?” Finn asks, serious this time. Prying, as if he’s hoping for more.

“Not everyone wants to be a hero,” Hux sneers, careful not to answer the question. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Trust me. Nobody thinks you’re a hero,” Poe says. “You’ve been comfortable here. Cared for. We aren’t doing this out of the kindness of our hearts.”

“Since coming here, I’ve gotten my leg amputated and I spend day and night in a windowless cell,” Hux snaps. He’s angry at himself more than anyone for getting into this situation.

“We can do worse,” Poe threatens.

“Even if I could, what makes you think I would give you people anything else? I'm exiled from the First Order. I’m aligned with no one.” He is truly alone.

“You’re our best shot at bringing down the rest of the First Order. We are asking you because we know you couldn’t possibly have betrayed them because you hated Ren that much,” says Finn.

“Oh, but I did. I really hated him.”

Poe lays a hand on the table. “If you tell us all you know, we can sweeten the deal. In exchange for the ranks and whereabouts of all First Order leaders, bases, weapons dealers, and anything else that’s remotely relevant. We’ll get you a leg.”

Hux freezes. He longs for balance, to become whole again. But he knows when he’s being manipulated. This isn’t the first-time men in power have used him to get what they want. Even more so, he’s disgusted with how badly he wants to jump on the prospect.

“A leg,” Hux states.

“State of the art. Looks like flesh. The best leg Resistance money can buy. We’ll fix you up good,” Poe says.

Hux pales, nauseated. Its nonsensical how rather than celebrate that he’s been given the opportunity to get a new leg, he instead feels degraded. Used, manipulated. He doesn’t hear what Poe says next or register Finn’s snapping fingers in his face. A warm hand on his forearm brings him back to present. He barely makes it, tethered to reality by the deep brown of Kay’s eyes.

“Are you alright?” Kay asks quietly. Hux straightens and quells the bile from his throat. He doesn’t answer the question.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Finn asks, now that Hux is back planetside.

“What would you like to know,” Hux drones to the space in front of him, dead behind the eyes.

“Everything,” Poe says.

Kay studies Hux’s features and posture. He fears his patient is not doing well. Poe will chew his head off if he stops the meeting, but he may not have a choice. Hux appears to have been triggered by something they said, or the situation in general.

“Let’s start with the Stormtroopers. We need to know all the places they’re being trained. The children, especially,” Poe tells him. He slides over a pen and a paper pad.

Immediately, Hux snatches the pen and pad and scribbles a short list coordinates and systems. Three of them, circling the last. His penmanship is barely legible. “Three bases. This one is where the children are,” Hux says, not meeting their eye.

Poe and Finn exchange surprised glances. “Wow. See, told you he’d be easy,” Poe says. “Smarter than he looks.”

Hux shudders, recoiling at the insult. Kay doesn’t approve of the air in the room, the way Poe and Finn are not registering Hux’s distress.

Yet, Poe moves forward. They’re making excellent progress. “Okay, next. Let’s get all the—”

“General,” Kay holds up a hand. “I think it’s best we call it a day. I need to get him his medication.”

“Seriously? Can it wait?” Poe asks.

“It can’t.” Kay meets his brother’s eye with enough gravity to make it clear he mustn’t be argued with.

But Poe isn’t convinced. They’re still at war. They don’t have the luxury of time. “With all due respect, Doc, we need what he’s got.”

“You have plenty for now. We agreed that we will prioritize his health, as well. In the next few days, we can sit down and ask for more.”

Finn turns off the only barely useful recording device and motions for them to leave. Kay takes the handles of Hux’s wheelchair and brings him back to his quarters.

Kay knows that Finn and Poe were not acting maliciously and didn’t intend to trigger Hux. They’re good men, with big, loving hearts. They just have a different job than he does. Kay is a healer. They’re warriors. They mend the broken in different ways.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hux whispers. The movement of his mouth and throat suddenly brings a gurgle of vomit from within. He hurls over the side of his chair, partially digested soup pouring onto the floor. It spills on his _wonderful_ suicide dress. Kay’s leather shoes are also unfortunately victimized.

“Yes, I did,” Kay answers poignantly when Hux stops gagging.

“I’m sorry…” he whimpers, ashamed of his lack of control.

“Don’t apologize. I’m getting you back downstairs and we’ll get you cleaned up. Poe can mop his up.”

Hux groans, pleased at the image. He feels a little bit like himself, now.

Back in his cell, Kay prepares Hux a shower. Hux shivers when Kay unfastens the complex clasps of his restrictive dress, unzipping it gently down the frail knobs of his back. Kay is essentially his nurse and has seen him nearly naked before. It shouldn’t make him this nervous. All of Kay’s motions are limited and clinical.

He wheels Hux over to the shower bench and closes the curtain, taking the body-heated dress from the side when it’s passed to him.

“I can do all this on my own,” Hux says, not unkindly.

Kay knows this. But he needs to monitor Hux after such a physical reaction. “Can’t leave you unattended. Doctor’s orders.”

Hux washes himself, going over the events from earlier again and again. “I was just nauseated. Must have been the food.”

“Maybe.” Sooner or late they’re going to have to have a conversation, one deeper than Hux may be comfortable with. He fetches Hux another gown and slips off his socks and shoes and tosses it in the biohazard hamper.

When Hux is finished, Kay passes overhead a fresh gown for Hux to throw on. Hux allows Kay to zip him up in the dress, longing for the simple dignity of a pair of pants.

“May I?” Kay asks, gesturing to the bed. He’s requesting to sit. Hux nods, wheeling himself closer. Kay sits on his bed, one leg bent up to his chest. Hux finds it odd to see his bare feet. It’s as if he’s trying to say he’s a person and not a medical droid.

Hux pries his eyes away from the man who has been his primary human contact for the past several days. He searches in his memory for the last time he ever had a conversation with someone that wasn’t an argument, or part of the day’s work on a star destroyer, or a part of advancing his personal agenda. Here, prisoner of the Resistance, he has no plan. He does nothing besides sleep, eat, visit the toilet, and puke on his caretaker’s shoes.

His caretaker. Kay. He’s sitting here on his cot, brown eyes deep and patient. The man is educated, patient, and kind. He’s sitting on his bed idly posing his long, muscled legs in a youthful sprawl.

“How are you feeling?” Kay asks, breaking the silence.

“Asymmetrical.”

That makes Kay grin, his eyes creasing warmly. “I could tell something shifted after Poe proposed the leg. They have leverage.”

“I’m aware.”

“You complied.”

Hux swallows, flushing in shame. “It was in my interest.”

“It made you sick,” Kay retorts.

“Oh. That was…well, I’m sure you’re all great friends here on your base, but I find Poe Dameron to be an obnoxious, arrogant man who just might run your operation into the ground if you leave him in charge.”

To Hux’s confusion, Kay chuckles and leans forward as if Hux is telling him a rousing story. “You’ve been well acquainted with him, then?”

“Only over calls, thankfully. But he’s attempted to make a fool of me on more than one occasion. His ridicule is childish, and his reputation far outweighs him. Frankly, he’s just an overrated starship pilot who outgrew his—did I say something funny?” Hux balks when Kay breaks into snickers.

“Sorry,” Kay says, calming down. “You’ve got an impression of him that most people normally do. They mistake his pride and unwavering sense of duty for arrogance.”

“I didn’t realize you were friends,” Hux says like an insult.

“Sometimes. He’s my brother,” Kay admits finally.

Unbelievable. “Your brother,” Hux deadpans.

“Yes indeed. I’m four years his senior. Pulling him out of trouble has been my duty for a while, but I watched him grow up. And grow up, he did.”

“You don’t look alike,” Hux says, still very much stuck on the fact that Kay and Poe are brothers.

“He got all the good looks,” Kay says. “But I’ve got the height. It balances out.”

Hux reddens, unsure whether to answer _yes, your brother is better looking_ or _nonsense, you’re much better looking._ He doesn’t know what his honest answer would be, but he knows which brother he’d rather be stuck in a room with.

“We have different mothers,” Kay clarifies, when Hux doesn’t respond. “Thus, different last names. He’s a Dameron and I’ve grown up as a Goron.”

“Oh.”

“I hope that doesn’t alter your opinion of me,” Kay smiles, for the first time admitting to himself that he values his patient’s opinion of him.

“It doesn’t,” Hux says. He looks at his caretaker. Kay is tall. Taller than Poe, but since he’s not at his full height, Hux can’t determine if Kay is any taller than himself. Kay is larger than him all over, broad in the shoulders and healthily padded with fat and muscle in the abdomen and everywhere else. As for looks…he’d be lying if he said Poe Dameron was unattractive. But Kay is handsome in the way Hux has an eye for. In his fantasies—ones that he’s never shared with another soul—he pictures himself with a tall, dark man, who’s a little messy and rough around the edges. Kay’s also got facial hair and a defined smirk to his lips, and he’s big in the chest and warm in the eyes and Hux only now realizes he’s staring for far too long.

“Good,” Kay smiles, and Hux forces himself to look away. Was he just ogling the man? Has he no shame? Hux swallows dryly and all but snatches his cup of water from his little side table, taking a sip.

“Poe had lost his mother at a young age. He does what he does within the Resistance as a way of honoring her. She was a hero in the Rebellion,” Kay says, filling the air with words since Hux looks uncomfortable.

“Sounds like everyone’s a hero.”

Kay hums. “Not everyone.”

“Why do you do what you do?”

Kay considers this carefully. He’s grateful Hux is communicating with him. “At a young age, Poe and I got involved with the wrong crowd. Not rebels, but criminals. It took time, but when we got out, we found the Republic. Poe believed they were idle, so we joined the Resistance. He couldn’t stand by and watch the First Order bring the galaxy to its knees.”

Kay followed Poe, because Poe believed in the cause. Kay believes in right, wrong, and most importantly, everything in between. But he would have never found the Resistance without Poe. This is Poe’s destiny, as Kay’s destiny is to follow his brother.

“And fraternizing with the enemy? That’s your job, as well?” Hux retorts, wanting to get a rise out of him. No man can be this kind and patient. No man helps without an alternative objective. Every man wants something.

“You see us as enemies here?” Kay asks, raising his expressive brows.

Hux rolls his eyes, masking his blush. He’s never blushed so frequently in all his life. “Aren’t we?”

Kay frowns. “News to me.”

“You disagree?” Hux shifts a little, straightening his hem over his little stump leg in an attempt to feel dignified.

“You still consider yourself First Order?”

Hux doesn’t know. If he’s not First Order, who is he? “I’m certainly not Resistance.”

“A spy is a spy. And a spy defects.”

Spy. Defector. Traitor. Before Ren, Hux would have never imagined he’d have fallen so far. “The past brands us. I’m still your enemy. You’re still mine.”

“Ouch,” Kay smirks, and Hux has to look away.

“Well, not _you,_ personally,” Hux snaps, embarrassed.

Kay is enjoying himself. “Is that so?”

“Is there a point to this? I thought the Resistance didn’t believe in torture,” Hux groans.

“My apologies. I just want to keep you talking. It’s good for you.”

Why does Kay care about what’s good for him? He’s done his job. Hux is breathing, fed, and mostly in one piece. They’ve got him in this restrictive clothing, so he will have a difficult time hurting himself. Yet, the man insists on talking with him as if they were trying to get to know one another.

“I may no longer be First Order, but I’ve been complicit in their attacks against you and your people. I’ve tried to kill your brother on multiple occasions.”

“You saved his life, once.” There are pieces to this puzzle that Kay is attempting to fit together.

Hux scowls, straightening his spine. “It was to outperform Kylo Ren. I knew the Resistance needed your men. It was not a favor on his behalf.” At Kay’s head tilt, Hux vies for control of the conversation, of the way this man pins him down in his deep brown eyes. “I may have betrayed the First Order, but I remain loyal to what they believed in. Before Ren, and before I knew Palpatine was pulling the strings.”

Kay knows this about his patient. But what he wants to know is not only why Hux still believes in the First Order after everything that he’s been through, but how he grew to change his heart. There’s more to the story than one man’s hatred for Kylo Ren.

“The First Order tried to take away our freedom. Was there a time it had taken away yours?”

“I believed in the Order since the day I was born. Nothing was ever forced on me,” Hux lies, hating the taste of it.

Kay almost holds his tongue again. But this was the window he was looking for. “I’ve seen your bones. They tell me otherwise.”

At first, Hux thinks Kay is just being clever. Until he realizes the implications of what he’s saying. Hux has seen scans of his own bones. Visible to medical droids are his countless breaks and fractures from the beatings from his father and other men from his life. Pryde was amongst his early tormentors, then Snoke and later Ren, who posted Pryde at his ship on purpose, knowing full well of the man’s history with him and his father. He glares angrily at Kay, refusing to let another man humiliate him. “You have no right. That is _none_ of your business.”

Instantly, Kay regrets his forwardness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kay holds up his hands, offering peace. “Please forgive me.”

“I’ve worked tirelessly for what was rightfully mine. I made countless sacrifices only for it all to amount to a zero sum, so don’t you dare try and patronize me or try to understand what I went through. You could never understand,” Hux grates. Once the dam spills, there is no stopping it. “You have no idea what it’s like to be reduced to so little, for year, for _decades,_ silently promising yourself that things will get better. Then you have nothing. You have less than nothing, not even your entire self to carry the loss.”

Kay stares at the broken man before him. Hux’s eyelids are pink with unshed tears, his pale hands balled into fists. He’s a criminal, a victimizer, a murderer. But he’s been abused his entire life, helped the Resistance in what should have been his final days.

Is Kay just trying to see a shard of good in him for the same reason he pours himself into his work? As if all the lives he’s saved could make up for the gallons of blood that he spilled before he and Poe became Resistance? If he can mend this man whole, maybe he can remediate himself.

“I may not fully understand. But I can try. If you’ll allow me,” Kay offers.

Hux recoils. Why does this man insist on tormenting him? Trying to trick him into admitting his most terrible memories, his twisted past? “You don’t make any sense,” he hisses.

“What?”

“You should hate me, like they all do.”

“They?” Kay asks for clarification, and because he wants to keep Hux talking.

“ _Everyone_ ,” Hux laments. He’s so incredibly sad. But for the first time in ages, someone is listening to him.

“Why do you think everyone hates you?”

“You people have billions of reasons to,” Hux says. Starkiller, his greatest asset and display of power. In the end, it meant nothing.

“Maybe you’re right. But I know that there is more to your story than your coveted reputation. I have seen your bones, and they tell me how long you’ve endured abuse. You tried to kill yourself and nearly succeeded,” Kay tells him.

Despite himself, Hux tears up like a child. This is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged the beatings he’s been subjected to with sympathy and understanding. At times, hurts just to think about them. But now, his chest floods with relief at hearing the words aloud.

“Maybe, ever since the beginning, you never even had a chance.”

At that, Hux’s face contorts. Here he is, one-legged and wallowing in his suicide proof dress in front of this man who’s already done so much for him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you further,” Kay says guiltily.

“Stop apologizing,” Hux snaps, swiping at his dampened face. “You are a very strange man,” he says. Because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Progress. This is progress. “The strangest man I know.”

Through his turmoil, Hux bleeds with appreciation for him. “I don’t know what to say,” he says pathetically.

“I fear I’ve overstepped,” Kay admits, starting to his feet. He doesn’t catch how Hux’s tired eyes follow his movement, consuming him. “It’s been a long day. I should let you rest.”

Hux wheels after him, prickling in a ridiculous notion of fear that he’s scared Kay away. But Kay isn’t rushing out. He’s preparing his medicine.

“You didn’t overstep,” Hux says after Kay administers the drugs.

Kay’s heart falters at Hux’s admission. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Hux twitches as Kay dabs the prick in his arm with bacta gel. Good as new. “If I talk some more, will I finally get some trousers?” he asks. Only half joking.

The smile blossoms warmly on Kay’s face. “That can be arranged.” Once he’s off suicide watch, he’ll be permitted a range of things.

Hux wheels himself over to the door, following Kay. “Well. Don’t keep me waiting.” He wants trousers, for sure, but he’d be a complete liar if he said he wasn’t looking forward to their next conversation. Kay leaves his cell with a small salute. Hux’s stomach flips as he watches him leave. What a strange man. Brother to _Dameron_ of all people. Imagine his luck.

Hux wheels himself in silence back to his cot, head swimming in images of warm brown eyes.

\--

Kay marches through the hall to the lift, bare feet patting the cool flooring. He reaches the upper level and the door opens, revealing Poe, arms crossed.

“The hell was that?” Poe demands.

“I told you. He needed his medication.”

“Stop bullshitting.”

“You really want to know?”

Poe raises his brows as if saying _duh._

“You pushed him too hard,” Kay says, mirroring his crossed arms. “He felt like he was being manipulated. He was triggered by your interrogation technique.”

Poe holds his brother’s gaze. “He told you that?”

“Not with words.”

“How—never mind that this shouldn’t even matter—but how are you so sure he was triggered?”

“I know because I’ve watched him. I’ve held conversations with him. He’s not going to open up in an interrogation room, not completely. And we treat people with respect. You always told me that,” Kay says.

Poe stares at him. “You did the right thing. Damn you.”

“I try.”

“So, he’s opened up to you? About what?” Poe focuses on the mission: get information from their prisoner.

It shocks Kay how much he’s disinclined to tell Poe the details. “Nothing that can be of use. But I can keep him talking.” Better he speaks with him than Poe, who may trigger Hux into another episode.

“He trusts you.”

Kay frowns. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“He likes you.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“He likes you more than he likes me.”

A pause. “Fair.”

“New plan.” Poe nods to himself like he does when he’s coming up with a new plan. “Rey, Jannah, and Finn and I are heading to the Stormtrooper bases. Lando Calrissian still has his fleet and we’re gonna try liberating the bases. You stay here, focus on the prisoner. Chat him up and bring him some ice cream. Whatever it takes. Just keep him talking.”

Kay has been lucky to witness his brother grow into a wise and careful leader. Poe sees the bigger picture, using Hux as a tool to help the good fight. However, it doesn’t mean Kay has to treat him like one. This is for the best.

“Understood, General,” Kay nods, and he wishes his brother the best as he marches back into battle. He pads off to retrieve a fresh pair of shoes, content smile gracing his mustached lips.


	5. Friends

In the coming days, Hux grows to look forward to seeing his medic. Kay always greets him with a sweet smile and a warm tray of food. In between visits, Hux sits in silence with a modest amount of reading material and a small stack of blank paper and charcoal.

Yet, he’s imprisoned. He doesn’t know where he’d escape to if he could manage it. He has no family, no friends, no loyalty to any organization. This is precisely why he took refuge with the Resistance in the first place. He made his escape from his star destroyer into captivity under the Resistance because after years of scheming, patience, and sacrifice, the Resistance was all he had left. Hux stares at the blank floor tiles, lost in his head. He doesn’t know the exact time, though he knows it’s morning. The pinch of hunger in his belly alerts him it’s almost mealtime.

The door clicks open, and Hux’s stomach fluttering has little to do with his desire for food. He wheels from his spot at his desk, setting down his detailed charcoal sketch of the wiring of a ventral cannon.

“I have something special for breakfast today,” Kay smiles, setting two covered trays, a carafe, and two small cups down at his table. Hux raises his brows, wondering if Kay is going to join him. He warms giddily at the thought. With an animated flourish, Kay reveals one of the trays.

On the plate is a hilariously neat pile of clothing topped off with a single pair of underwear. They’re white but the same design and size as Hux’s black First Order ones. Hux’s smile creeps comfortably on his pale face.

“Before you worry, no, they’re not mine,” Kay jokes. “I think it’s time your wardrobe gets a bit more professional.” Kay beams as Hux takes the pile of clothing from the plate into his uneven lap. Underwear, long pants, and a long-sleeved shirt. A comfortable ensemble.

“This is…better,” Hux finally says, a little lost for words. “I am grateful,” he says, as a thank-you.

“I was going to offer you a razor for your stubble, but it looks like you’re a slow grower. Like me,” Kay smirks, twisting the patchy dark hairs on his jaw.

Pointing out Hux’s lack of facial hair drains the healthy coloring from his face. It does not go unnoticed by his perceptive doctor. Hux chews at his tongue to animate it and break the silence. “I can’t grow facial hair,” he states. “I had a…procedure. Thanks to it, I’m always neat and tidy.”

“Oh. A procedure?”

Hux’s father had the facial hair stripped from his face just when he hit puberty. First Order officers all had the privilege of growing beards, while Stormtroopers often endured the hair removal procedure. Hux’s hair removal was a punishment. His father ordered it be done after he claimed Hux falsely accused one of his colleagues of molesting him. It was not a lie, but that mattered little to Brendol Hux. No son of his, not even his bastard son, was a victim. If he wanted to play the victim, the weakling, the waif, he’d be treated like one. In retaliation, Hux kept his hair on the sides of his face as thick as possible. He decides to refrain from telling this tale to Kay. It will likely disturb him.

“So, what’s really for breakfast?” Hux says curtly, diverging from the topic.

Kay lifts off the second tray cover. “Oats.”

Hux looks down at his simple platter of steaming oats, covered in small chunks of a bright orange, pulpy fruit. Kay pours two cups of coffee. He learned early on Hux takes his black. This is the first time Kay is joining him over a cup. He takes his seat on the chair beside his desk, the one he often uses when he supervises Hux’s mealtimes.

Hux eats in silence, already accustomed to eating in front of him. It’s been well over a week since Hux defected, got his leg amputated, tried to end his life, and since he met Kay. Hux observes the pensive quality to Kay as he steals glances at him sipping at his cup.

“Is your throat feeling better? The bruises have faded,” Kay states, catching the way Hux’s eyes dart to the bowl of half eaten oats as he finally turns towards him with full attention.

“Better. Much,” Hux hums, sipping at his little cup. The dinnerware is aged plastic, browned with repeated use. He wonders how many Resistance men and women have eaten from these bowls and cups and trays.

“After you’re done getting ready and changing into your new clothes, I think I would like to take you outside.”

Outside? “What for?”

“You look like you could use some sun. These light fixtures mimic sunlight, but there’s nothing like the real thing,” says Kay, pouring himself another cup.

“I’ve spent years at a time without stepping foot on a planet, let alone in the sunlight.” The last time he’s seen a star up close was after Starkiller was destroyed. The planet he spent the most time on was his home in Arkanis, a dreary, rainy place. A terrible place with terrible memories. There, he was small and trapped.

Kay knows that many humans live like this. It’s unfortunate. Kay relishes the wind in his hair, the heat of a summer day, the spatter of cool rain against his face. “Maybe some change will do you good.”

Whenever Kay suggests things, Hux is uncharacteristically agreeable. “Alright,” he says, noting the flash of triumph on Kay’s face.

After breakfast, He tips forward to allow Kay some room to unfasten his restrictive gown for the final time. If unzipping someone out of their clothing could be done kindly, Kay does it every time. An odd feeling of sadness settles within him, as if he’ll miss the feeling of Kay releasing him from the confines of the gown. Stranger feelings have befallen him in recent days, recent months, and recent years, so he accepts it in stride.

Kay leaves him with the promise to return to take him out shortly. Eager to slip into a pair of underwear for the first time in over a week, Hux wheels himself to his refresher stall just in case Kay slides in early. It’s overwhelming how off-putting it is dressing himself in his new, lopsided form. Yet, he manages it with little incident. The empty pant leg hangs flaccid off the rim of the chair and his brow furrows as he decides what to do with it. He ends up folding it to the side and tucking it under his stump, grimacing at the unfortunate picture he makes.

At least he’s finally in trousers. Kay hadn’t said anything about being off suicide watch, but this is a step in the proper direction. Since his attempt against his life, Hux has had time to reflect on if he’d try to end it again.

It would not make sense. He’d probably fail, which would be humiliating. And Kay would be the one to find him like that. After everything the man has done for him, he decides that having Kay deal with whatever pathetic scene he’d be discovered would be incredibly rude.

The antidepressants must be working.

Hux takes the plastic comb and diligently parts his hair in an agreeable fashion. The Resistance doesn’t supply hair styling gel to their prisoners, so he makes do with a splash of tap water. In the dull mirror, Hux frowns at his sallow cheeks, his healed, thin neck. The neckline of his new shirt hangs low enough to expose a sharp collarbone. He straightens the baggy shirt out, hoping it will stay on his shoulders. He’d lost weight since his decline after Starkiller, and now without a leg he’s surely the lightest and thinnest he’s ever been. He parks himself by the door, awaiting his escort.

Kay knocks on the door a few minutes later. Hux fidgets a little, feeling nervous. “Come in,” he calls.

The door unlocks and swings open. “Everything fit okay?”

“It’s a little large. But it’s still an upgrade,” Hux says, self-conscious of his deformity under Kay’s scrutiny. “A bit roomy in the trousers,” he jokes, waving to his vacant, crumpled pantleg. He relishes how easily Kay chuckles, creasing his face. It feels genuine, honest, and makes Hux want to share something real.

Hux narrows his eyes at the nondescript backdoor passageway, allowing Kay to wheel him out. Where he expects to see bustling Resistance members tossing him glares and spitting at his wheels, is instead a dirt pathway winding into a jungle.

They’re alone. Hux must remind himself that there are more people on the base than just him and Kay.

Outside, Kay wants him to talk. He can tell because Kay is talking a lot, prompting him to comment on the temperature or the cool wind on his skin.

“Let me know if you get chilly. It cools under the tree canopy,” Kay continues, trying to get any sort of indication Hux is enjoying this. An insect whizzes by Hux’s ear and he spazzes, but quickly contains himself.

“We’re almost there,” Kay says, bending forward, and inadvertently withdrawing another flinch from Hux. “Sorry,” he laments.

“Don’t. I’m just…out of my element,” Hux says, eyes darting around the jungle.

Maybe they should have taken it slow. But this was the only exit that didn’t require him to cart a one-legged General Hux through their busy base. Also, he didn’t exactly ask for permission from Generals Finn and Dameron. “We can go back in anytime you like,” Kay promises. “But hopefully you’ll enjoy our stop.”

Hux’s chair wobbles over the uneven dirt path. He’s surprised it’s made it this far. The air buzzes with a distant commotion. Hux isn’t quite sure he can identify it, but whatever it is, they’re heading straight towards it.

They end up at a modest waterfall. Only about two meters in height, and due to the time of year it’s little more than a series of trickles. But the falls are plenty peaceful. Kay parks Hux by the shore of the stream and sits in the moss beside him.

“You like it?” Kay asks, looking up at him.

Hux is accustomed to looking up ever since he was confined to this chair, which undoubtedly will require cleaning before he goes back in his room. It’s refreshing to look down to talk to someone. “It’s fine.”

“Fine,” Kay repeats, as if delighted to hear it.

“It’s a nice change of scenery,” he says. “I have a good view of the top of your head.”

Kay raises his thick brows comically high. “Here I thought I’d save that for the third date.”

It takes Hux a second to understand what just happened, but when he does, he’s at a loss for words, instead bombarded with lecherous imagery of an act he’s never come close to participating in.

“You have too much fun,” Hux sputters once he recovers, blushing furiously.

Kay laughs, reveling in Hux’s blanketed redness. “Oh, you don’t know how wrong you are.”

“Am I? You seem to have no problem teasing,” Hux says, accusatory but without any real heat.

“Maybe I’m just happy I’m no longer the one with the biggest stick up their ass around here,” Kay suggests. He hadn’t realized it until Hux pointed it out, but he’s been unusually playful around him lately. It’s easy to play with Hux because he is serious, clever, and if the situation is just right, kind of hilarious.

“I must be an easy target. One legged. Haven’t worn underwear in a week. Mentally unstable, depressed,” he rambles easily, having no shortage of insults for himself. He’s just unaccustomed to admitting them to anyone.

“Don’t forget irritable, slow eater, and a short fuse,” Kay retorts, and he doesn’t have to look at Hux to know he’s balking.

Too much fun, indeed. Underneath his mild resentment at Kay’s mischievous insults is warm, enigmatic satisfaction. He knows Kay can be serious, which makes him wonder why he chooses to share this side of himself. The way Kay teases him isn’t cruel in the least. To Hux’s shock, he finds that he enjoys this flavor of fun, too. He wants in on the game. He decides to try search for experiences that could reveal any flaws in the man. It dawns on him he doesn’t know anything about him. Besides, of course, the fact that the dreadful Poe Dameron is his brother.

“Have you always been a Resistance medic? Or were you a comedian in your past line of work?” Hux asks, attempting to be smooth.

Kay’s expressive brow creases in incredulity. Call him crazy, but he suspects General Hux is trying to get to know him better. “Not always. I was a nurse in the New Republic. But that didn’t last forever.” At Hux’s horrified look, Kay amends himself. “But that was long before. That.”

The genocide he executed and took great pride in at the time looms heavily over the conversation. “Forget I said anything.” Hux has had a lot of time to think, during his Resistance imprisonment and the vicious brand of isolation and abuse he suffered under Ren. He had not allowed his mind to wander toward his prior acts. Once, he tried to comprehend the loss of billions of anything, and he felt nothing but pride that his weapon was a success. Now, as he sits before a man who repeatedly has given him the benefit of the doubt, he fears if he tried to envision what it means to take billions of lives, he’d simply break.

Kay is gazing distantly, beyond the gurgle of the waterfall. Hux takes a moment to appreciate Kay’s apparent lack of disgust. “Before Poe and I joined the New Republic, we traveled around the mid rim for a while. Before that, I was in medical school. I guess in retrospect, most of our adulthood was spent fighting in the Resistance.”

This man remains a mystery to him. He supported the New Republic, and not only can he stand to hold a civil conversation with the person who launched an attack that destroyed it to ash, but he’s offered Hux safety, saved his life, and spent a substantial amount of time trying to heal his mental state.

“You’ve always been a hero,” Hux says, not unkindly. He is merely stating the difference between himself and his caretaker.

But Kay shakes his head. “Poe’s the hero. I am the one who follows him into danger to make sure he makes it home.”

“Sounds heroic to me.”

“I’m just a man with a skillset.”

Hux swallows, trapped in a familiar smallness. “You know who I am and what I’m responsible for. Only a hero would have the patience to deal with someone like me.”

Kay senses Hux’s remorse. It’s fragile but present. “I’m the last person who would choose to see in black and white,” he says deliberately. He stops himself before he gives into the temptation to divulge the secret that he has kept to himself for years, about what he did to countless lifeforms ‘traveling around the mid rim’ during Poe’s servitude to spice runners. Poe doesn’t know the atrocities Kay’s had a hand in. He never will.

“You’re either a really good person or a terrible one,” Hux whispers, having never held bone-deep conversations with anyone, ever. Kay’s lip curls, choosing to abstain from informing him which of the dichotomy he falls under.

After a beat of silence, Kay adjusts the trajectory of their conversation. “Is this helping?” he asks, waving to the flowing water.

“It’s not hurting.” It’s not so much as the water as it is Kay beside him. He wants to say more things to Kay because it feels so good once the words tumble from his lips. “I like not being confined. I feel as though I’ve been confined one way or another. And when I woke up to find I was trapped in this—form,” he spits, tongue thick with self-loathing, “it was like my cage had gotten impossibly smaller. That’s why I hurt myself. I hate being like this. So small and useless.”

He hadn’t meant to divulge his troubled reasons for his suicide attempt. Or maybe he had. It bubbled up naturally, without impulse and without doubt. He wanted Kay to know because Kay listens and smiles and laughs along with him. It doesn’t matter if it’s for professional reasons, or simply in his nature. It’s a taste of attention Hux is now beginning to crave. He turns back to Kay and finds his warm brown eyes.

“I’m glad you told me,” Kay says. “And I’m glad you no longer feel as trapped.” Fixated, he watches the relief flicker over Hux’s features, his thick gold lashes slipping closed. When Hux isn’t scowling or sobbing or raging with the heat of a thousand suns, he’s pleasant to look at. There is a unique softness to him that most men do not have. Kay allows himself to stare, unwilling to evaluate his own intentions.

“I know I’m a prisoner, but…I came here willingly because I was out of options. Things haven’t been easy since arriving here. I should…thank you for making this bearable,” Hux confesses. Kay has done so much for him. It occurs to him that no one in his life has ever come close to doing what Kay’s done for him. He longs to discover his angle, his agenda, if only to quell the ever-increasing desire for the man’s presence.

“You’re very welcome,” Kay smiles, shocked to hear Hux’s gratitude. This is a first for Hux. “You’re making incredible progress. I may have helped, but you’ve done the difficult work.”

Hux warms at the praise. He’s always been a sucker for positive reinforcement. Kay is a positive influence on him. “If you say so.”

Silence fills the space between them comfortably and Hux revels in the achievements of the day thus far.

“Where do they stand? With the information I gave them about the bases,” Hux asks. “It’s been several days.”

“Our fearless leaders have not updated me personally, but last I heard, they were developing a strategy.”

Hux looks out to the stream. “I’m capable of providing more information whenever they’re ready. I am determined to get out of this chair.”

“That’s good news. I’ll pass that along.”

Hux prays that the information he has will still be relevant by the time Poe and Finn return. It’s exhausting hauling himself around on this chair. He won’t mess up the interrogation next time.

\--

Poe marches down the hallway to Kay’s room. He’s been back on base for several hours and things settled down with the mission. The mission was flawed in many ways, but Poe counts it as a win in his book. Jannah, Finn, and Rey managed to infiltrate the base on the ground while he maintained command from a cruiser flagship. It was surreal being in charge, with no one to second guess his actions. Hopefully he can honor the trust Leia instilled in him.

By the end of the mission, their team managed to isolate a small collection of the youngest Stormtrooper child soldiers from the camp. A few dozen of the children made it to their shuttles, but the First Order called in replacements. By the end of the mission, Poe withdrew their forces, saving what children they could. Lando chose to spearhead the organization and care of the children on a Republic allied system until they can locate their families. The whole mission took two full weeks when he factors in the scouting and espionage.

Poe frowns, knocking on the door to Kay’s quarters. No answer. Maybe Kay is on the job. He treks across the base and down to the level Hux resides. It’s been weeks since Hux came under their care.

Punching the code to Hux’s cell releases the latch. As it opens, Poe is immediately perplexed by the soft laughter bubbling up from inside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Poe says when the pair quiets. His brow furrows deeply, looking from Hux to Kay. Between them is a half-eaten tray of food and two empty cups. The grins from their faces melt away.

“You’re back,” Kay says with odd enthusiasm, sitting up straight in the desk chair.

“Yep.”

“Everything go alright?”

Poe narrows his eyes. “Can I speak with you in private?”

Kay stands, murmuring to Hux to finish up and he’ll be back for the tray shortly. Hux nods, pointedly looking away from Poe.

“Looked cozy in there,” Poe says, staring at the back of his brother’s head once they’re outside Hux’s room.

Kay doesn’t know how to properly counter Poe’s remark. He regains control of his racing heart and turns to face him. “I’m getting him on our side. Like you said,” he clarifies, crossing his arms to mirror Poe’s careful stare. He’s getting Hux on his side. It’s just that he may not entirely be motivated by Poe’s demands. His motivations are getting increasingly personal; he wants Hux to get better and he wants to be the one to help him along the way.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Kay says, trying to get back on subject.

“He’s better, right? Mentally?” Poe asks. “We hit a snag on the mission. I want to bring him back up to interrogation.”

“He is. I’ve offered him counseling, and…I took the liberty of taking him on a few short walks.” Kay never got permission to take Hux outside. He’s been known to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, much like his little brother.

“Outside?” Poe frowns. “You took him outside?”

“Privately. But it was imperative for his treatment plan,” Kay defends, opting for the concerned, experienced medical doctor routine.

“Next time, ask me first.” Poe doesn’t like the idea of Hux rolling around outside. His imprisonment is need-to-know.

“You were indisposed.”

Poe sighs. His brother has been a kind, selfless person his whole life. He made so many sacrifices for him, and he will always owe him a debt that he cannot repay. “I know you mean well, Kay, but he is dangerous. Don’t let your guard down. Not even for a second.”

Kay has held deep conversations with Hux, seen him as his lowest point, heard some of his deepest fears, and he’s seen how brightly Hux can smile and laugh if he coaxes it out of him. He isn’t naïve. He knows Hux has committed atrocities. But he knows in his heart that even the worst people are a victim of circumstance. Maybe he can offer Hux friendship. Hux could use a friend.

“I won’t let my guard down,” Kay says to break the suspicious pause. It’s not a lie. It’s just not a guarantee.

Poe nods thoughtfully, satisfied. “I’ll do the next interrogation in fifteen. He can stay in his room. Finn is training today so it’ll just be us.”

“Works for me. I’ll give him the update.”

Poe leers at his brother as he slips back inside Hux’ cell and closes the door behind him. He shakes his head. Kay is a smart man. He won’t do anything to compromise their job here. He’s just doing his job, caring for the insufferable General Hux.

Inside Hux’s room, Hux finished his food shortly after Kay was escorted out by his brother. When Kay returns, he does so without a smile and a greeting. Poe must have scolded him.

“Something awry?” Hux asks, straightening the small collection of reading material Kay brought him a few days ago. Three paper books. One is fiction, well-worn and terribly written, and the other two are historical textbooks. Those aren’t bad, for what they are. He’s just glad to have something to take his mind off the current situation.

“Poe is ready for more questions. If that’s alright with you. We can talk in here.”

Hux is ready. He’s in a more appropriate mental position. “I’m happy to sing,” he says dryly.

“Make it count. The mission was not as much of a success as he had hoped.”

Hux has ideas. If someone told him a year ago that he’d be sitting idly in a Resistance bunker itching to divulge critical First Order intelligence to his enemies, he would have laughed in their face. Now, Hux pictures the smug smirk falling from Pryde's face as the Resistance blows another one of their bases to hell. If only Ren were alive to watch his precious fleet crumble to pieces.

After a lifetime of devotion and service, the First Order betrayed him and left him with nothing. He looks forward to watching them burn.

Later, Kay ushers Poe to the desk chair and chooses Hux’s cot as his seat. Hux wheels himself towards Poe, prepared to give him more.

“Alright, Hux. What can you do for me?” Poe says, turning on the recording device. It’s for Finn.

Hux doesn’t hold back. Gone is the timid, nauseated man from weeks ago. He goes into detail on bases, weapons stations, clandestine operations that the Resistance never had caught a whiff of. After twenty minutes of Hux scouring through his memory, he concludes with the names and locations of all the First Order’s spies, weapons manufacturers, and the additional sources of funding besides the late Palpatine.

When he finishes, Poe sits back, trying to wrap his mind around the enormity of Hux’s information. “I need to make sure this checks out.”

“It will,” he tells him, crossing his thin arms.

“Don’t bullshit me. I don’t appreciate being bullshitted.” This is far more than he anticipated, more than he ever believed Hux was privy to and willing to give.

“I have no connection with the First Order. I am only allied with myself. And the people who can give me what I want,” Hux says. His ghost leg spikes with pins and needles. Kay told him that it’s common for amputees to feel phantom sensations where their limb used to be. It was unnerving at first, but Kay made him feel confident he wouldn’t get distracted by it.

“I’ll be back,” Poe says, standing up. He’s not convinced that Hux doesn’t have additional interests.

“You know where to find me.”

Poe looks from Kay to Hux and shakes off his disgruntlement. He leaves in silence, determined to make sense out of Hux’s intelligence.

Kay slaps a hand on his knee. “This is good news.”

“What?”

“You told him everything, correct? That’s your end of the bargain. That means Poe will purchase you a leg,” Kay says encouragingly.

Hux perks up. “Hopefully. Unless he fails to keep his word.”

“Nonsense. We should celebrate. Let me get you a drink.”

Hux warms, having never been given a drink by another man in his life. “You’re serious?”

Wagging a finger, Kay leaves the room. Hux wheels around to his table, mind racing and unsure where to place himself. He decides to park himself back at his desk because that’s the only other place of interest in the room.

Fifteen minutes pass. Hux watches the door and nibbles at his fingertip, heartbeat a quickening tempo. Kay has rapidly become the most interesting part of his day. He sees him day after day, absorbing his quirks and rhythms. This is new. Kay is doing something kind, fun, and most likely not allowed by Poe Dameron.

When Kay returns, Hux folds his fingers neatly in his lap. The bottle of amber liquid glints seductively in his hand. “This can’t be a part of your job description.”

“Of course, it is. ‘First: do no harm.’ No harm done, right?” Kay smirks, pouring the liquor into their two cups.

“Surely this will anger your brother. Are you trying to sabotage me and keep me in this chair?” Hux demands. Their banter flows so easily now.

“Do you plan on tattling on me?”

Hux sighs but is clearly enjoying himself. “Alright. Give it here.”

Kay obliges and raises his dark brows as Hux devours half the pour in his glass. He retires his weight to the cot, setting the full bottle on a tray on the mattress.

Hux takes the hint and sets his glass by the space between the arm of his chair and his hip to wheel himself over. With practiced maneuvering, Hux sets his glass down on the tray and locks the chair’s brakes. He uses his growing strength to plop himself down on the pillow of his cot beside Kay.

Sitting beside Kay on this terrain is jarring. It’s as if for the first time, Hux can stand tall and rest his tired legs on a normal seat instead of his dreadful wheelchair. He sits up and adjusts the pant leg of his stump of a thigh.

“Do you ever have any personal days?” Hux asks.

Kay considers this. “What for?”

“When you’re not…doctoring.”

“I’m not doctoring now. Clearly,” he retorts, enjoying a sip of the liquor. The alcohol content is mild, a mere seven percent in potency. It’s all he had back at his place.

“You never have a day off,” Hux deadpans, scooting up against the wall more comfortably.

“Did you?”

Enough about him. “Not the point. I feel like I barely know a thing about you.” Kay is a mystery, endlessly fascinating, and almost always at the forefront of his thoughts.

“What do you want to know?”

They’ve played this before. Hux isn’t charming or pleasant like Kay is, so he can’t coax anything from him. Before he can patch up his hesitant pause, Kay holds up a finger.

“I’ve got an idea. We’ll play a game. A guessing game.”

“A guessing game?” Hux asks skeptically, excited for what happens next.

“A drinking game,” Kay clarifies, topping off their glasses. He watches the questions glittering in Hux’s eyes.

“How do we play such a game?” Hux asks, pulling his leg up from the floor.

“I come up with a statement about myself. If you think I’m lying or if you think I’m telling the truth, you call it. If you’re wrong, you have a sip.”

Hux doesn’t have a history of playing many games, other than strategy games he’s played in his youth. He’s certainly never played a drinking game, not with a grinning, messy-haired Resistanceman who is becoming less and less of a stranger.

“Alright. I’ll bite,” Hux smiles. The idea entices him. And clearly, he’ll win. He is an expert liar.

“To start, I’ll say something. Then before you guess, you’ll say something. Then we’ll decide who the better liar is.”

“Do your worst.”

Kay nods, searching his thoughts. He puts on a distant look in his eyes, then regards Hux coolly. “I am a widower.”

Hux’s eyes widen. Seriously? Why would Kay lie about such a thing? Unless it is to mess with him. Maybe this is his way of exposing a grim detail of his personal past. He nods, studying Kay’s blankness. “I’m divorced.” A terrible lie, but he couldn’t think of anything else; he’s consumed by Kay’s sullenness.

“So, what’s your verdict?” Kay asks, after studying the micro-expressions dancing across Hux’s pale face.

“You’re telling the truth,” Hux says with finality, confident in his judgment. There’s something deep and honest in his confession.

Kay nods. “You’re lying. Also, take a drink, because so was I.”

Hux guffaws, shaking his head. “You seriously would lie about something like that? Who does that?”

“Can I drink? Was I wrong?”

“No, you were correct,” Hux scoffs, throwing back a swallow. He’s embarrassed to have failed so soon.

Kay chuckles, clearly very pleased with his victory. “Nothing is off limits.”

“Some things should be,” Hux scoffs. “Go on. Tell your next lie.”

“I can play the guitar,” Kay says after a moment.

It could be the truth. But he could be trying to throw Hux off.

“I had consistently high marks throughout school, without fail and with no competition,” he tries, sounding proud.

Studying Hux’s face, Kay decides on his judgment. “That’s the truth.”

Hux’s lips twitch. He’s not as good at this clever game as he thought he would be. “Correct. You, however, are lying.”

“Wrong.”

Hux rolls his eyes and sips at his drink. “Unbelievable.”

“I could show you sometime,” Kay says, and at Hux’s perplexity, he adds, “My guitar.”

As wonderful as that would be, Hux doesn’t know how he’d react if he saw Kay with a musical instrument. Or worse, playing it for him. His gut flips at the whimsical picture.

“You’re making this incredibly difficult,” Hux scoffs.

“How is that?”

“You’re a convincing liar.”

“I told one lie. Just one,” Kay counters.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you must be cheating.”

“Let’s go again. Give it your all, this time.”

Hux _is_ giving it his all. “I can’t swim.” He glares at Kay, determined to make the right choice of true versus lie.

“I don’t wear underwear,” Kay says seriously, holding his mostly full glass up towards him. “And you’re lying.”

Hux flinches. _How_ is he doing that? “So are you.”

Kay hums, and for a moment Hux believes he didn’t lose this round. “Drink up.”

Rolling his eyes, Hux tops off his glass. This is getting ridiculous. His cheeks are beginning to burn with giddiness and the onset of mild inebriation. “Well, keep your drink down, because you were correct. Again,” Hux admits, and he reaches to pour himself more of the drink. He’s certain he will need it.

His eyes fall to Kay’s waist to catch a peek of his hidden underwear. For a bizarre moment, Hux keeps his eyes glued to the wrinkled seams of Kay’s pants. He studies how his crotch is shaped, and before he can stop himself, the thin fabric adjusts and can _actually_ see the outline of his—

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to drink this anyway,” Kay smirks, oblivious to Hux’s discovery. He holds his glass out and clinks it with Hux’s now full one.

Hux doesn’t. He’s consumed by a flush and the odd beat to his heart as Kay smiles at him and effortlessly swallows the alcohol. The bob of his throat, the lines his neck makes as his angles change, the bulge of his shoulder muscle as he lifts his arm. Hux averts his eyes when he realizes his sin.

This is… so unlike him to indulge in staring at another like this, imagining what other shapes his body makes, the colors and textures beneath his uniform. Panic begins to take control. Why is he doing this? What does he hope to accomplish by indulging in these glances and muses into his imagination? He isn’t like other men his age. He’s never seen another person naked or had any sort of intimate contact. In the First Order, there was little time to get involved with others. Sex is like another language to him.

Truthfully, the thought of another person’s hands on him makes him sick. He knows why those loathsome feelings exist. The memory of his father’s colleagues and their heinous acts against his youthful self remains a stain on his psyche to this day.

Which is why it feels so strange to feel any sort of…attraction to someone else. He has looked at men before, never having a budget of interest towards females of any creed. But save for the touches and prods of men decades his senior assaulting his pubescent body, fear and loathing keep his skin virginal.

His wide eyes flick over to Kay’s lips. He’s never been kissed before. Once the thought encroaches, Hux’s heart vibrates in his ribcage. What would it be like for Kay to cradle his face with his healing hands and bestow a kiss to his untouched mouth?

“Is there something on my face?” Kay asks, startling him. He swipes a hand over his chin and mustache.

Hux averts his eyes, scarlet blush high in his pale cheeks. He shakes his head, red har tickling his downcast lids.

Kay perceives his shame as drunkenness. “You don’t have to drink anymore if it’s too much.”

“Please,” Hux scoffs, all too aware of Kay’s massive presence. Kay isn’t enormous like their Wookie or like Ren was. He’s appropriately tall, padded in muscle, shoulders broad, and healthily thick in normal places. He’s figuratively large, too, with his magnetic smile and expressive brows, his sense of honor and duty. Hux inhales, brow puckering in frustration towards his mind’s treachery. Once he begins musing, the intrusive thoughts penetrate from all angles.

“Would you like to keep playing?” Kay asks, studying Hux’s countenance. Hux is slumped pensively as if caught between decisions.

Hux nods, unable to look at the man sharing the space on his bed. His voice, too, is intoxicating. It summons unbridled longing in his racing heart. Why is he doing this? Why is he permitting these contemptuous thoughts to cloud his reason?

“Here’s one. I can understand Shyriiwook.”

Hux resumes the game. “I am incredibly allergic to pet dander.”

He shivers from his poisonous thoughts. Why is Kay playing this game with him? What’s his _angle_? Is it to charm him? Distract him? Fool him into believing they’re friends?

As it turns out, Hux was wrong about Kay being able to understand Shyriiwook, and Kay was correct in calling his bullshit on the pet dander fib. They play this game a little while longer, Hux losing every round. The statements are innocuous and fun enough, yet Hux grows livid from the perpetual loss. Things are getting worse now that he’s approaching complete drunkenness.

“Impossible. How am I so terrible at this? What are you, a mind reader?” Hux growls, swirling the last bit of his liquor in his glass. Kay had better not be a mind reader. The humiliation of Kay knowing the perverse, childish thoughts in his mind would be too much to bear.

“I’m not a mind reader. But I do have…a unique talent.”

Hux studies Kay’s face, the pattern of his facial hair, the crease between his dark brows. He leans forward, watching every little movement unabashedly. “What talent?” he whispers, concerned through his stupor.

“I can tell when someone is lying by studying their facial muscles. It’s all in the micro-expressions.”

Unbelievable. “You’re a damned…human lie detector?”

Kay nods, absorbing the incredulity rolling off Hux in waves. “It comes in handy,” he shrugs.

“You…you _cheated.”_ Hux feels exposed, like he’s got the thinnest, softest skin that Kay was looking right through _._

“How is that cheating?” Kay asks, finishing what’s left in his cup.

“Of course, that’s cheating! You neglected to tell me you could read me like a book. You were never going to guess wrong.” He was swindled.

“That’s overstating things,” Kay smiles, and Hux can’t quell the vibrant pang of longing at the sight of him.

“You tricked me.”

“Did I?”

“You’re a ridiculous man,” Hux groans, but his lips tug into a smirk that makes his chest feel full and warm.

“That doesn’t explain why you were consistently wrong,” Kay points out.

“You cheated on that part, too. I don’t know how. But you did,” Hux accuses.

“How could I? Honestly.”

“Because if you didn’t, then it would mean I’m an impressionable, naïve idiot!”

“Or,” Kay says, puckering his chin in consideration, animated from the inebriation. “You saw what you wanted to see. In me.”

Hux’s fierce eyes dance over his handsome face. “I don’t want to see what I want to see. I want to see what’s there,” Hux says, emboldened by the moment. “I want to see you.”

Hux’s insistence brings Kay closer. He watches as wide, green-grey eyes envelope him. Like this, Kay doesn’t need to watch for uncontrolled facial tics. Hux is open, determined. He holds his gaze in silence, well past the point of appropriate.

After a heavy, infinite moment, Kay swallows and breaks the eye contact, keeping his eyes away from Hux’s unhinged expression.

“Hold still.”

Kay whips his head back, narrowing his eyes. “Huh?”

“I’m trying to _see_.” Hux frowns, feeling ridiculous but determined. He’s intoxicated from a multitude of sources. The drink, Kay’s charm and allure, and by the enormous gravity of mystery surrounding him. What could he be hiding that would explain his ability to detect lies? This man shouldn’t be the trusted. But Hux trusts him. He’s the only person he trusts.

Kay turns toward him, mirroring his tired slump against the wall. He lets Hux rake over his features in an attempt to see him for who he truly is. Hux’s concentration is unmatched. Enjoying getting pinned like a bug under Hux’s scrutiny, Kay commits Hux’s unabashed intensity to memory.

After a while, Hux decides he has what he needs. “I’ve got it.”

“Got it?” Kay smirks.

“I see you,” Hux says softly, slurring a bit.

“Is that so.”

Hux pauses. “You don’t believe me? Don’t you see that I’m not lying using your lie-detecting muscles?”

When Kay laughs this time, it emanates from deep inside, crinkling his face flatteringly. “I think you _think_ you see me,” he challenges.

“Fine. Have it your way. Last round. Winner takes all,” Hux says. At Kay’s confusion, Hux waves a hand. “Let’s play one more time. Say something and make it count, because I _will_ know if you’re lying or not.” He _sees_ him. It’s all in the eyes, and he has spent a good while lost in their depths.

“Alright. But you asked for it.”

“Go on. Don’t think. Just spit it out,” Hux grins, glittering.

Kay looks at his feet, at the nearly empty bottle beside his leg. A significant part of him cherishes this moment. Being seen. Everyone craves to be seen. A crude, revealing statement about himself immediately comes to mind. If Hux were to guess correctly upon uttering this statement aloud, there would be no denying that Hux sees him.

“I am a murderer,” Kay tells him, connecting with him on more levels than simply by eye. He watches the grin melt off Hux’s youthful face, the turmoil and confusion pinching his brow like an affliction.

In the past, for years, he spoke those words only to himself and never aloud. He told Hux because not only does he want to be seen, but he wants Hux to know that he sees him back.

Stunned by Kay’s admission, Hux fights the tightness in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say and his silence serves as his response.

Kay stands and takes Hux’s glass from his fingers. He wishes him goodnight, taking one last moment of the night to absorb the complex tremors of his countenance. The figurative pieces fall into place, and Kay seals him away for the night as he succumbs to the weight of his confession.


	6. Falling

_Kay Goron frowns deeply, peeling off the outer layers protecting him from the icy winds of Kijimi. He’s twenty-four years old. He is a criminal, and a murderer._

_“I had to kill that man,” he tells Poe._

_Poe is young and angry, and as sharp as an arrow. “No, you didn’t. I had to.” Poe doesn’t know everything Kay has done for the spice runners over the years. Kay kept it hidden out of necessity. Poe doesn’t need to see him for the murderer that he is. He knows him as a healer, not an executioner._

_“How can you just talk about it like it’s nothing?” Poe grimaces._

_“It had to be done.”_

_“Have you done that before?” The way Poe asks this is small and cautious. He fears the truth._

_“Never,” Kay lies, without hesitation._

_Poe always believes his big brother. He doesn’t know how to lie like Kay, so he can’t pick apart any bit of Kay’s secrets. “I could have done it,” Poe says weakly._

_“No. You couldn’t have,” Kay tells him. That is what makes them fundamentally different men. Poe is a hero by spirit, righteous and brave, always well meaning. Kay is a hero by trade, saving lives when it’s possible, and taking lives when it’s necessary._

_Poe hangs his head. Kay, of course, is right. He could never kill someone like that, point blank, in cold blood. “Are we gonna do this forever?” Poe laments. He’s asking Kay, the universe, anyone who will listen and give him hope._

_Kay meets his eye. He knows what he must do. “No.”_

_It is not an especially difficult task. Kay has fantasized about it for years, planned meticulously to slaughter their entire crew and free Poe from their forced servitude. In a manner of weeks, he gathers the supplies he needs while on-world: cannisters of compressed poisonous gas, two gas masks, and explosives. He sharpens his blades and oils his blaster triggers, waiting for the opportune moment._

_It’s finally the evening that Kay executes his plan. He waits for the part of night cycle when every gang member is on the ship. Mask on, he perches in an alcove, waiting for Poe to march by. A clean blow to the back of his skull sends him limp in his brother’s arms. Poe is far more muscular now that he’s no longer a teenager, but Kay still has height and strength over him._

_He hauls Poe over his shoulder and lugs him to the docking bay. He lays Poe down in his escape shuttle and secures a mask over his face, before being interrupted by a rough palm on his shoulder. Kay whips around and drives a knife into the man’s throat, his death cries wet and muted. The blood sprays over his mask, soaking his jacket. It hardly phases him. These people are his enemy. This is the means to an end._

_The only way for his plan to work, for he and Poe to gain their freedom, is to ensure all forty crew members are deceased. He seals Poe safely in the shuttle. The next part of his plan requires him to install the cannisters in the ship’s main ventilation units. Kill them all simultaneously to minimize their chances for escape. Kay activates the poisonous cannisters and they hiss in response. He dislodges the escape pods, ensuring no survivors. In the hall outside the utility room, Kay mounts his explosives. He installs several down the descending ladder, stepping over a fresh corpse on his way down._

_Immediately, Kay is accosted by a horde of gang members, the biggest and toughest of them who survived the initial gassing. They’re choking around rebreathers, enraged eyes bleeding from the toxin. Kay grapples for control, slicing through their straining throats, as skilled with a blade as he is with a blaster._

_When the dust clears and bodies litter the floor, Kay exhales with finality beneath his blood-soaked mask. It’s time to take his brother home._

_In the hangar, Kay seals himself in the ship. He kneels over his unconscious brother and peels off the mask protecting him from the poisonous gas. Poe looks so young. He checks his brother’s pulse, comforted by its even beat. The ship blasts off to safety and their prison, along with its slaughtered crew, erupts into soundless explosion._

_In the refresher, he scrubs the blood splatter from his skin, the guts from his hair, the gunk from under his fingernails. In the mirror, he’s gaunt and tired. He feels no regret, only relief. In their tenure under their enslavers, learned that killing doesn’t disgust him. Killing is a skill. His jacket is hopelessly soaked, so he tosses it and his mask and gloves out of airlock. He finds his seat in the pilot’s chair. Hyperspace ribbons flicker across the transparisteel._

_“Kay, what’s going on?” Poe mumbles from his slump, almost an hour later._

_Kay jumps. He forgot he wasn’t alone._

_“Kay?”_

_“It’s over,” Kay tells him. They’re finally going home._

\--

In the coming weeks, Hux fixates on a great many things. First and foremost: Kay Goron. His caretaker, his exclusive point of human contact. Hux would even go as far as describe him as his friend. Kay said he could be his friend because he looks like he needs one. His smile, his jokes, his tall and capable body made needlessly attractive by his unrelenting charm and kindness.

Hux is an absolute fool for honing this pathetic attraction towards him.

It would never work between them. Even if the man could find some way to overlook his hideous deformity, Kay isn’t the type of tragic fool to fall for someone like him. Hux is a criminal. Kay is a hero. But these facts don’t stop Kay from spending every single morning with him, and often sharing meals with him throughout the day.

A secondary part to his infatuation with him: his confession of murder. Was it a mercy killing? Or a malicious act? Was he culpable? Did they deserve his wrath? Was it just one murder, or a hundred? Hux can only imagine the reasons and circumstances of Kay’s murderous past. Kay, naturally, refuses to talk about it, despite Hux’s requests for details. ‘ _Did they have it coming?’_ Hux had asked, trying to keep it light. Kay simply smiled and said it was a story for another time.

Over the weeks, Hux’s ribs have fully healed. On week six, Kay begins to perform physical therapy for his remaining leg. Hux doesn’t dislike the therapy. It is, however, strange to be lying down with a man bending and rotating his leg. A shy blush creeps over his chest when Kay bends his leg against his chest, leaning forward into him with his massiveness. Hux follows his instructions, clenching and pushing back when Kay instructs him to do so. 

One afternoon, Kay tries to get him to use the crutches. They cuff uncomfortably around his biceps as he grips the handles. He can barely maintain balance, and Kay’s hands on his waist are pleasant reminders of the support he has here trapped in the Resistance bunker.

“This is humiliating,” Hux whimpers, budging mere inches along with the crutches.

“You’re doing great.” Kay releases his hips, admiring Hux’s progress. “It will take time.”

“What’s taking your brother so long? I gave him everything. I don’t know how long I can take being a complete invalid.” It’s been well over a month and _Generals_ Dameron and Finn have yet to give him a new leg. He’s not sure how much more of Kay’s respectful, purposeful hands on him he can take.

“I don’t see an invalid. I see a patient who has worked tirelessly to regain his strength.”

Hux blushes, warm from praise. “Just keep me updated. Please,” he adds.

“I will,” Kay promises. Poe, Finn, and Rey are all off world. They don’t keep him in the loop necessarily, but he knows they’re making the most out of the facts from their snappy informant.

Once Hux’s exercises are complete, he allows Kay to help him back into his chair. Kay watches Hux’s thin fingers swipe at his chin length curtain of hair, soft and vibrant with a natural sheen. It’s a beautiful color, easily the most striking thing about Hux’s appearance. Kay’s brow purses as his chest falters against his will. It’s not news Hux is a good-looking man.

“Hair is getting long. Very long,” Kay says, affection lingering as Hux tucks it behind his reddening ears.

“It does that.” Hux doesn’t particularly like his hair color. It was a source of ridicule when he was in school, a source of perversion for men who took advantage of his pubescent fragility.

“I could trim it if you like,” Kay offers, flinching when he realizes how forward he sounded. He allows the proposal to hang in the air as he silently tidies the therapy equipment.

“That would be…kind of you,” Hux says, heart racing.

Kay used to trim Poe’s hair back when they lived with the spice runners. It shouldn’t be too difficult to trim Hux’s. He gathers an electric shaver and a pair of scissors.

If Hux were on his star destroyer, he’d have a skilled petty officer give him one of the First Order’s five approved hairstyles. He trusts Kay to do a good job, of course. He also trusts Kay to wield a blade around his skull without fear of injury. Kay is a very talented medic, an ally, and friend.

Hux sits patiently with his hands folded in his lap. Kay runs a comb through his hair, splitting it into an appropriate part. The snips of the scissors send tingles along his scalp.

“At least you don’t have to worry about your face,” Kay hums.

“What’s wrong with my face?” he smirks.

“Nothing at all. You have a pleasant face. Especially when you smile.” Kay says the praise confidently, comfortable with the compliment. They’re friends now. Hux, naturally, grins wider through his flush. “Your facial hair,” Kay clarifies, switching from the scissors to the electric razor. He tidies up Hux’s sideburns, trimming them short.

“Oh,” Hux breathes, staring oddly at the floor. Kay doesn’t press, and instead focuses on cleaning up the back of Hux’s head. Somehow, with it now long on top and short on the sides and especially the neck, Hux looks even more demure and petite. Kay brings a mirror to Hux’s face and where he thought he’d be happy or surprised, he instead looks forlorn.

“Is it too short?”

Hux shakes from his spell, tracing his fingers through his evenly trimmed hair. “No. It’s perfect. Thank you.” He scratches at his chin, permanently smooth.

“What’s the matter?”

A terrible secret bubbles up, a shadow from his painful childhood. “This wasn’t my doing, my hairlessness. It was a punishment.”

Kay frowns, waiting for Hux to finish lifting a great weight. The moments like these, with Hux forcing out heavy thoughts and feelings, draw Kay in. He knows Hux doesn’t speak of these things to just anyone. It brings him great, selfish pleasure to know he isn’t just anyone to Hux. To a degree, Hux trusts him.

“I…brought great shame to my father and his esteemed colleagues,” Hux says softly. “I misbehaved one too many times. He told me that if I were going to refuse to act like a man, I’d never have the privilege of looking like one. He ordered the removal of my facial hair. I grew what I could,” he says, waving to his sideburns, which Kay trimmed short. Brendol had been furious when he cried to him about two officers on their ship molesting him. He was old enough to know his father wouldn’t believe him, or even care to listen. “Of course, my late father always sported a thick beard.”

“I’m sorry,” Kay says, after a moment when he’s sure Hux has said all he wishes to say.

“It was a long time ago. Besides, I’d probably keep myself clean shaven anyway. That would be entirely too much _red.”_ Hux veers from the turmoil of his past.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Kay clarifies.

“He’s done a lot worse than that,” Hux scoffs, running a hand through his hair. It feels wonderfully neat. Kay appears to have an endless list of talents. “What about your father? Was he a good man?”

Kay sits in his chair, turning over the stories and details of his father. “I’ve actually got two fathers.” At Hux’s arched brow, he clarifies. “One who raised me from birth, and one who supplied the genetic code, so to speak.”

“Oh,” Hux hums. “How did they manage that exchange?” he asks, feeling inappropriate but hardly caring. Often, Kay humors him.

Kay tells him about his fathers and the adoration they shared for his mother, the great jungles of Yavin 4, and the many traits they share. He speaks of how his father died when Kay was a teen, and how his death brought him to Kes and Poe Dameron, and then his life was never the same. “They both say they didn’t know that my dad wasn’t really my dad. Kes claims he never knew about me. I don’t blame them. He had his own family. I was just inconvenient to that picture.”

“At least you earned yourself a brother through the drama.”

“You and I both know Poe can be a…how should I put this—”

“Irritating? Arrogant?”

“I was going to say passionate and opinionated, maybe,” Kay laughs. “But he is strong in ways I could never become. Brave and honorable in ways that don’t come naturally to me if at all.”

“You’re plenty honorable. Even if you are a cold-blooded murderer,” Hux counters. He smiles because it comes so easy to him now. How can that be? He’s lost his title, his fleet, his leg. He’s lost it all. Yet, none of that seems to matter anymore. It’s this place, this man. A man he really, really likes. Being in Kay’s presence makes his eyes wander, and Kay’s compliments and praises make his heart skip.

Kay shakes his head. He must look away to maintain his composure while being snickered at by the one-legged, troublesome First Order defector. He finds a cleaning droid to tend to the clumps of fine red hair on the floor. He enjoyed doing this for Hux. Too much, in fact. It sends his stomach into confused, guilty flutters.

\--

Kay is lost in his thoughts as he gazes out at the hangar at his brother and his team of Jedi. The team trundle out of the Falcon in obvious defeat.

They’re all so young. Well, except Poe. He and his brother are at that age where they should stop making so many friends in their twenties. Poe tends to have young friends and older romantic partners. There was a time when Poe would chase after men their father’s age. They’d gotten into arguments over a couple of trysts, but nothing they couldn’t recover from.

Kay’s dating life is another story. He’s rarely been one to pursue others. The situation must be right. He is a private person. He’s only had a handful of sexual partners, and no true relationships. Nothing like Poe, who could fall in love with anyone. The only thing he and his brother have in common in that realm is that they both are exclusively into men—a fact that always made their father joke about the kinds of genes he unknowingly passed along.

“Poe,” Kay interrupts, stepping in between Rey and Jannah, the newest member of their cohort of training Jedi. “I need to speak with you,” Kay tells him. Their roles aren’t all that different now that Poe and Finn are in command. As servants of the Republic, then members of the Resistance, Poe always took the lead between them. Kay was the one on the sidelines, content to be in his brother’s shadow.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Poe says, nodding to the three Jedi.

“Come on, Kay. We just landed. Still got our sea-legs.”

“This will only take a second.”

“What is it, then?” Poe sighs.

“I think it’s time we made good on your deal with our prisoner,” Kay says. It doesn’t feel right to describe Hux as a prisoner. Kay would not describe himself as a prison guard to him. They’re more than that.

“My deal.”

“He’s given you all he knows.”

Poe breathes, heavy with the burden of the galaxy on his back. “None of it is good anymore. They changed the codes, and the bases were gutted and abandoned. Every last one. We just came back with nothing.” Poe is angry. Not at Kay, or even at Hux. The universe keeps biting them in the ass. They just want this to be over.

“Nothing has worked?” Kay frowns.

“They must have known he made it out alive and decided he knew too much and they had to clean house. The First Order is a ghost, now. There’s nothing out there for us to kill. Nothing we can find, anyway.” Poe clenches his fist. “But they’re out there. And they’ll come back, stronger this time.”

“He’s told you all he knows,” Kay laments, heart heavy for his brother and his cause.

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough.”

Is Poe really blaming Hux for this? Startling himself, Kay immediately flocks to Hux’s defense. “He kept his end.”

“And I told you. It was useless.”

“How is that fair? He gave you all of that information in good faith—”

“Don’t tell me what’s _fair,_ damn it,” Poe snaps, his bellow ricocheting against the stony ceiling and gathering several concerned eyes on them. His chest inundates, composing himself. “This shit is never fair.”

Kay glowers against his brother’s outburst but reflects deep understanding. He knows Poe is in an impossible situation, one that worsens daily. How had General Organa done this for so many years? He concedes to Poe’s anger. He’s right about that. Fairness doesn’t exist. Justice is an illusion.

“I’ll see if he can think of anything else.” Kay is Hux’s advocate here. From the way Hux tells his story, Kay might be the first and only individual to step up to the challenge. Still, he would hate to anger Poe more than he already has.

\--

The following evening, Hux finds himself lying on his side on the floor. Kay hasn’t visited since breakfast. Today was one of the rare days where one of his medics brought him his lunch. Hux ate alone, head filled with ideas about what his friendly warden is up to.

Kay enters the room, and Hux rolls onto his stomach, his lone leg bent at the knee. Without the other leg, it’s hard for him to balance from this position, so he lays his leg flat, cupping his chin thoughtfully. His lips twitch as Kay sets his food on the table. It looks like he’s earned the company, as Kay sets two plates off the tray. Tonight will be pleasant.

“Bed not doing it for you anymore?” Kay remarks, turning around to grin at Hux. He’s impressed of Hux’s new use of the room.

Hux shakes as if to shrug. “Needed a change of scenery.”

“I could take you outside tonight.”

Hux rarely asks for anything, so when Kay offers something, Hux takes advantage. “That would be nice.”

“Would you like some help back in your chair?” Kay proposes, never assuming Hux can’t do things well enough on his own.

“That would save some time. And embarrassment.” He’s gotten back up before, but it involves a lot of swearing and stumbling. He goes easily into Kay’s strong grasp, selfishly clasping Kay’s biceps just to feel how round and stiff they get when they’re straining to lift him. Kay guides him upright, to his foot, and then to his dreadful chair. Thankfully his leg will be here soon. Each day is another day closer to a time where he can walk laps around his room. He may even indulge in a little dance.

Kay takes his usual seat. They eat contentedly, stealing glances when the other isn’t looking. Kay ends the silence. “I spoke with Poe. They returned yesterday. You…didn’t mistakenly leave anything out, did you?”

“No,” Hux says. “I gave him everything.” He spent so long thinking about every detail, every ship and every fragment of strategy he was privy to. “What happened?”

Carefully, Kay explains their dilemma. He keeps his eyes on Hux’s concerned face. “Nothing was pertinent anymore. The First Order has disappeared. It would seem this is a direct result of you being revealed as the spy.”

The First Order secrets were all he had to barter. “So, what you’re saying is, your brother amounts everything I gave him as useless. I basically had nothing to offer.”

“I’m still trying to work with him,” Kay tries, but Hux is not a man easily convinced. “I’m sorry.”

This can’t be. Hux gave Dameron everything. He was their spy for _months_. Does that account for nothing? “Useless,” he hisses, on instinct. Useless, useless, useless.

“Hey.” He lays his hand over Hux’s, whose turmoil cracks at the calm, assuring touch. “That’s not true. They know you surrendered everything you had. It will count for something. Maybe, not right now. But it won’t be forgotten.”

Hux swallows, acutely aware of Kay’s heavy palm. Just one touch, and his panic is tethered and under control. “I’m never becoming whole again, am I,” he whispers. But as he approaches the brink of hopelessness, there’s only one person who can pull him to safety.

“We _will_ get you that leg,” Kay vows. It’s become less and less about holding up their end of the bargain, and more about how much happier and healthier Hux will be once he’s back on two feet. The idea of Hux wild with elation and confidence and hope as he struts on two legs, summons a surge of determination in his heart.

Hux looks back at him, shuddering with an energy so foreign to him that it gives him pause. This isn’t gratitude, or relief, or joy. It’s all of that at once, and more. “But how?”

“We’ll think of something,” he offers, not having a clue by what he means by that.

Hux nods, everything in him wanting to give up immediately. But he persists, because it’s now more than once Kay has referred to this plight in terms of _we_.

“I could help,” Hux blurts, urgent. He lays his other hand over Kay’s and grips. “I can bring ideas, not just secrets.” When it’s clear Kay is confused but doesn’t want to dampen his excitement, Hux withdraws his hands and points at his temples. “I’m not just a spy. I am an engineer. Weapons, facilities, defense systems. I could help you all improve your machines and infrastructure. I know how the enemy thinks.”

“You would do that?”

“I just need the hardware.” It makes perfect sense that this is where he’s ended up. The Resistance has the best shot blowing the remnants of the First Order to hell. It’s what they deserve after what they did to him. He’s more eager to work towards obliterating the First Order beyond all recognition than he has a right to be. It’s outshining his longing for a new limb.

“That’s incredible,” Kay smiles, peering into Hux deeply. He is a skilled reader of expressions, criminally so, but Hux is such a complicated man. Some moments, he is completely unreadable.

“I’ve got many talents,” Hux says with confidence. He _isn’t_ useless.

“You’re sure?” He’s not sure how his brother will react, but this is promising. This could be what it takes to bring Hux back to his feet.

“Definitely.” Hux grins madly, proud of himself. Whatever reluctance he had diminishes. He’s going to prove his worth to Dameron, to Kay, the rest of the Resistance, and to himself.

\--

Poe is impressed. Truly. “He came up with that on his own?”

“What can I say? He really wants that leg,” Kay smiles, though he suspects that the possibility of a new leg is a mere veneer of Hux’s true motivation.

“And he knows he’s not actually getting his hands on any of our weapons or cruisers, right?” Poe deadpans.

“All he needs is a computer.”

“How do you know he won’t use it to call for help?”

The answer to Poe’s question is a sad truth. “He doesn’t have anyone to ask.”

It doesn’t take very long for Kay to gather the proper materials. He consults R2-D2 for the right designing program, as well as making sure that Hux operating a computer doesn’t open any threats to their security. To satisfy Poe and Finn, R2 hardwires the computer into a closed system, removing any messaging capabilities. Kay hopes Hux’s alliance with them is as genuine as he portrays.

Kay presents Hux with the results. With R2 as his guide, Kay constructs a simple workstation at Hux’s small table. The droid’s diligent whirs and beeps fill the lived-in space.

“I have a lot of designs that the First Order most likely still uses. If you all had the ability to track ships through light speed, that would certainly be an advantage against them,” Hux grins wickedly. He’s invigorated, alive once more with this new mission.

“I’m sure Poe would be head over heels,” Kay says, sitting back to watch Hux dive into the hardware. His nimble fingertips stamp commands into the interface. He is enjoying how Hux’s eyes light up in excitement as the catalogues the coding into the program.

“Everything appears to be in order. Thank you,” Hux smiles. It’s a good look for him.

“Alright, R2. Good job, buddy,” Kay salutes, and R2 chirps in acknowledgment and whizzes away. Sometimes, like now, Kay leaves the door cracked. He doesn’t feel like Hux is an escape risk. He’d like to think Hux isn’t itching to leave, anyway.

“I’ll try to have something ready within the next few days. Nothing concrete, but I want your brother to know I’m serious about my abilities.”

Kay sits back, watching Hux work. It’s hard to see Hux as someone who would go to such lengths to help bring the demise of the First Order in exchange for a mechanical appendage. There’s something deeper at work, hidden beneath pale, unblemished skin. Something that Kay is slowly beginning to see. It brings him to their first reveal that General Hux was the spy who helped defeat the Final Order. He claims it was all to spite Kylo Ren. Hux is spiteful, indeed, but Kylo Ren is long gone. Hux’s glee and satisfaction towards designing the First Order’s demise cannot possibly be all about his damned leg.

Hux’s eyes dart quickly over to Kay, who seems to be content staring at him and his screen. It’s slightly off-putting. He likes Kay. A lot. Too much. But he concentrates best when he’s alone, and Kay is so very distracting.

“I’m afraid this is the boring part,” Hux tries, shifting his eyes to gauge Kay’s reaction.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Kay scoffs in mock-offence.

Hux blushes, embarrassed to be so transparent when it comes to Kay. “Not exactly,” he defends. But it’s no use lying to Kay.

“I didn’t mean to get in the way,” he stands, hands on his hips. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

Kay laughs, warm in his chest. He’s happy to see Hux concentrate on something productive for once. “None taken. I’ll leave you to it.”

He admires Hux from the doorway, posture perfect and eyes intent on the screen. He treats the space as if he were designing a grand military undertaking, a sharp contrast to his soft long-sleeve shirt and snug sweatpants. Hux spares him a fleeting twitch of the lips, then turns back to his work. To see Hux like this, occupied and motivated, summons a swell of appreciation from within. He’s come so far from the snarling, self-hating, suicidal man he pulled out of the escape pod.

Softly, the door clicks shut. Kay exhales and braces his shoulder blades on the doorframe.

Over the past weeks, he’s thought a lot about himself, his past, his future. Most of which stemmed from thoughts about Hux, a man he considers a good friend, now. He swallows, envisioning Hux’s rare smiles that have become increasingly more frequent.

He keeps to himself the rest of the evening as he makes his way to his quarters. Odd to be here so early, he thinks. Normally around this time, he and Hux are sharing a long, indulgent dinner. His room is smaller than Hux’s, a consequence of living in overcrowded paramilitary bases for over a decade. Kay lies in bed, eyes wide and full of deep thought. He lays a hand on his chest, its weight a drop in the bucket compared to the breadth of emotion laying thickly over him.


	7. Ache

After two weeks, Hux has made ample progress to prove his worth as an asset to the Resistance. First came the detailed re-creation of the First Order’s light-speed tracking system. The Resistance will have to do the construction, of course. But Hux had a heavy hand in the original design. He knows his re-creation will be functional.

He tells this to Kay over their usual dinner. Tonight, they are chatting over bowls of soup. Hux loves soup, oats, tea, coffee—anything warm and filling.

“Poe should be evaluating your designs now,” Kay tells him, topping off his tea. It’s herbal, low in caffeine. Perfect for an evening meal.

“He may need help interpreting some of the layers,” Hux replies, feeling proud.

“He has his best people on it. We have some decent engineers, too.”

“I’m sure,” Hux says, sounding anything but.

After dinner, Kay does something a little different than their usual outing. “I could take you for a ride. Does that sound interesting?”

“I don’t think I’d fare well on a speeder,” Hux says, not keen on the idea of grasping for dear life as he struggles to find balance at top speeds.

“I was thinking more of a landspeeder. I could buckle you up safely.”

Hux glares at him. Kay can be aggravatingly considerate. After Hux finishes his tea, they do just that. Kay doesn’t wait for the hallways to clear. He stopped doing so a few weeks ago because Hux’s existence at the base became common knowledge within the ranks. On the rare occasion they catch his eye, they radiate contempt and pity. It’s a look Hux is used to receiving, long before he found refuge with the Resistance.

Kay appreciates most people choose to ignore Hux. And Kay isn’t especially popular, himself. He’s content to blend into the background. He wheels Hux to the back door and parks him beside on of the landspeeders. Hux knows the drill, raising his arms and hooking them around Kay’s shoulders so he can lift him. Hux is set onto the edge of the speeder, his leg dangling as he finds balance. He scoots backwards into the rear seat, twisting around to fit his lone appendage into the hole that usually keeps two. Of course, he buckles himself, because he isn’t a child and needs no such assistance.

They depart as the sun disappears between the enormous jungle trees. Wind tightens Hux’s cheeks. He stares at the sky beckoning them like an invitation. Stars pierce the veil above, lighting their way. He likes the way Kay looks beneath the stars, encompassed in their halo.

Kay maneuvers the speeder into a clearing, kicking up dirt and insects who glow white in their frenzy. Satisfied, he powers down the speeder and unfastens his seatbelt.

“This is nice,” Kay smiles, eyes crinkling in the way that shows his age. It’s a good look for him.

“It is a very pleasant night,” Hux says. The sky is darker, now, enhancing the canopy of stars.

“Thought it would be good to get out of that bunker for once.”

Hux adjusts himself on the seat, looking down at the custom pants Kay had hemmed for him: one leg of normal length, the other trimmed and neatly stitched to fit his stump. When Kay first presented him with the odd apparel, he was speechless. Kay has seen him wrestle with the empty pantleg before and stitched his pants without asking for permission. He accepted the pants without comment. The gesture was appreciated, as all of Kay’s gestures have been. It made him ache with longing. Kay is as enticing as he is forbidden.

“Is this anything like your home planet?” Kay asks.

“No. I come from Arkanis. Most of the planet drowns in an endless rain,” he replies. There are few memories he wishes to keep from Arkanis. Most of the ones he can never forget are the ones surrounding his awful father. “No stars. But I saw plenty from above.”

“From your star destroyers. I bet you miss those,” Kay hums.

It’s hard to describe the way Kay makes him feel when he brings up his life before, as a high-ranking officer in the organization his group has tried tirelessly to destroy. It’s best characterized as a mixture of shame and irritation. Part of him is ashamed he failed the organization, and another part is ashamed that the First Order is still functioning despite his best efforts to destroy it. An ever-increasing part of him is ashamed he was ever associated with an organization so flawed and manipulated by Palpatine and his pawns. “Not exactly,” he says primly.

Kay swivels around to get a better look at him. “Bet the food service was way better, though.”

“You’d be surprised,” Hux says. The food here is better in many ways; foremost, the quality of the company. Before Kay, he rarely shared his meals with anyone.

“Anything you do miss, though?” Kay looks at him intently, as if with one look he can pluck the answer Hux has yet to formulate.

“Besides the obvious,” Hux hums, patting his segmented thigh. “I suppose I miss the ritual.”

“The ritual?”

“The schedule. Everything was paced down to the hour. I feel—safer, here,” he swallows. He hadn’t intended to admit something so personal. “But I miss the hustle of the ship. Some days I’d work for over twenty-four hours before collapsing. Others, I’d struggle to stay on Ren’s good side and would risk getting thrown across the hall.”

“You miss getting thrown across the hall?” Kay demands, perplexed.

“I miss lying to his face, and getting away with it, too. Besting him in our arena.” Ren always thought he was stupid and weaker than him. That arrogance was the reason he was able to spy for the Resistance for as long as he had while under Ren’s tyranny. It’s why Hux is sitting under the stars with a handsome Resistanceman and Ren is dead and gone.

“You miss him?”

Hux blanches. “Nonsense,” he scoffs, clearly scandalized. “I’m glad he’s dead. Regardless of how it happened. He lost.”

“And you won.”

“I’m not sure that’s how I would describe what’s happened.”

Kay leans forward, elbows to knees. “You survived. You made it out in one piece. Well…”

Hux shoves Kay’s shoulder. “Not funny,” he says between his teeth, exasperated, but somehow grinning madly.

“Still,” Kay smiles, raising his hands in surrender. “You were the one that lived, and nobody’s gonna shoot you anytime soon. Not if I have a say in it.”

Unsure how to respond, Hux brushes at his wind-swept bangs to hide his blush. If he were a gullible man, he’d think Kay was being protective of him.

“What would you want to happen next?” Kay asks. He’s dying to know, but a part of him knows Hux is incapable of transparency when it comes to his wants and needs.

“Like, after I fulfill the ever-changing requirements for receiving a prosthesis?” Hux asks, and for the first time, considers this. Kay must be around to help him regain his balance and strength and transition back to bipedalism. But after he’s put back together, what will happen to him? Will Kay still spend his days with him, once there is no physical therapy to perform? That prosthesis will be the beginning of the end for their time together. He’s not ready for that.

“Yeah, in general. What do you want to do?” Kay implores, eyes darting about Hux’s perfect face. Even when pursed, Hux’s lips are full and dramatic. His lashes falter as Hux takes his time to consider his question, their bow noticeable along his silhouette. Hux is very handsome.

“I suppose I like where I am,” Hux starts, not wanting to lie. Regardless of Kay’s lie-detecting skills, lying to Kay makes him feel terrible. He finally has someone to confide in, and the idea of Kay losing trust in him—or worse, losing _interest_ in him—is nauseating.

“Oh?” Kay sits up. He hadn’t expected this.

“I…enjoy these new tasks at my desk. Maybe, once I’ve deemed myself worthy to you all, I could continue to work in that capacity. As an asset, of sorts…don’t you dare tell your brother I said this,” Hux amends, once he realizes the weight of his confession. How embarrassing. It’s not that he wants to be a Resistance _member_. Perhaps, he could be a resource to the Resistance. He never has been or will be one of their followers. But he feels protected, needed among these people. Also, this is where Kay is. Kay is his friend and the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Kay murmurs. He matches Hux’s look of uncertainty with a warm smile. There is much more he wishes to say. “I’m glad you shared that with me,” he says instead.

“What about you? Don’t you want to retire?” Hux says, shifting the subject.

“Hey, I’m old, but not that old.”

“You know what I mean.” Hux rolls his eyes. Kay isn’t old at all. Hux would wager he is only a few years his elder. “What about a family?” he asks. He loves to hear was Kay has to say.

Kay’s brow purses, as if in all his years, he hasn’t once considered the possibility. “Poe is my family. Where he goes, I follow.”

Ugh, of course he would say something like that. “So, this is what you saw yourself doing when you were a boy?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Kay counters, dodging the question. Before Hux can retort, Kay jabs a finger at the streaks in the night sky — a meteor shower. Hux barely sees it in time, but it doesn’t matter much to him. He’s seen far more brilliant and destructive things fall to the earth.

“Beautiful,” Kay breathes. He grins at Hux to ensure he agrees.

This would be a perfect, picturesque moment for Hux’s handsome hero to pull him into his arms, for Kay to palm his cheek and anoint him with a kiss. Not just any kiss, but his first kiss. His narrow chest pangs with longing, along with the erratic vibration of his heart.

This is nonsense. He’s toying with a fantasy that will never come to pass. Kay is just being nice to him because he’s pathetic, crippled, and hated by all.

The wind picks up, pulling Hux back planetside. He shivers, his thin sweatshirt not enough to keep his bones warm. This does not go unnoticed by the ever-chivalrous Kay Goron. Without prompting, Kay hastily peels off his black duraleather jacket and gently lays it over Hux’s shoulders.

“Kay…” he breathes, overwhelmed at the gesture. He must look horrified, because Kay panics.

“Sorry. I thought you were—”

“I was. Th-thank you,” Hux says, smiling softly. He’s already obsessed with this man. Kay is only making it harder to live knowing they are not, and will never be, together.

Kay laughs it off, feeling ridiculous. Who compulsively throws a jacket over someone’s shoulders without asking?

After that, the rest of their evening tapers into companionable silence. Kay tries, and fails, keep his eyes off Hux in his jacket watching more meteors burning up above.

\--

Hux makes good on his promise to the Resistance. Within a few short weeks, his array of preliminary designs for the lightspeed tracking capabilities are ready to be manufactured and modified for the newest model cruisers. Hux pours hours into reviewing every detail, typing lines of instructions for their engineers on how to best adhere their ships to this new technology. He outlines the names of the star systems where it would be easiest to get the supplies without going noticed by the First Order, the hardware that they require, how and when to operate and synchronize tracking.

He explains this all to Poe Dameron and Finn in his room. Of course, Kay is there for supervision and support.

“Everything should be in working order,” Hux says, adjusting himself on his wheelchair. They have physical therapy after this. He’s not looking forward to it, but he needs to maintain strength in his remaining leg to be able to use the prosthesis more efficiently when the time comes. By the look of his immaculate offering, it will be sooner rather than later.

“This is incredible,” Finn says. “Really, Hux. Thank you.” Finn is grateful Hux went this far. In his years confined by the First Order, he never would have imagined the great and terrifying General Hux would spend weeks holed up in a Resistance bunker, pumping out invaluable designs that may be the key to hunting down the remainder of the First Order.

Hux brushes off Finn’s gratitude. “I trust you all will get a lot more done, now.” He flicks his eyes to Poe, who is decidedly silent. He bites his tongue mentioning the terms of their agreement because he knows Poe can change them at any time. He knows how to behave when it best suits him.

“We’ll be in touch,” Poe says levelly. He stands, meeting Hux’s neutral expression. Then, he holds his hand out for Hux to shake. Carefully, Hux takes his hand, and shakes. He says nothing.

When they finally leave in complete silence, with the designs copied to a hard drive, Hux passes Kay a look of confusion. “That was good, right?”

“They’re grateful,” Kay grins. “I can tell. Especially Poe.”

“Right,” Hux laughs bitterly. “I don’t need them to be grateful. I need them to put it to proper use.”

Kay plops down on his chair, eyeing Hux’s profile as he reads whatever is on his computer interface. “I know they’ll keep their word.”

“Hm?” Hux hums, wrapped up in his work.

“About your leg,” Kay says, like it’s obvious.

“Oh. I know your brother has the utmost integrity,” he says, as if he’s not worried about it at all. He opens the file on hyperdrive efficiency models, ones he highly doubts any of their rusted cruisers are equipped with. His modifications are highly complex, but he’s sure the effort put into revamping what they have will be well worth—

“Maybe we should take it easy tonight,” Kay interrupts, placing a palm on Hux’s pale hand. Hux has hands like his mind: elegant and clever.

The leap of Hux’s heart pulls him from his work. “Oh. Physical therapy,” Hux says, fingers fidgeting under Kay’s warm palm. Over the months, Kay’s kind, assuring touches have grown more common. No one has ever touched him this much, and he is getting used to the comfort.

“Maybe we can push that back ‘til the morning,” Kay clarifies. “Wanna play a game instead?”

“A game?” Hux asks incredulously. Kay and his _games_.

“If you’d like.”

“The last time we played a game, you made me look like a fool,” Hux glares, but there’s a smile behind his eyes.

“You still haven’t forgiven me. I understand,” Kay smirks, leaning back.

“If we were to play another game, it would be a game of my choosing.”

“Perfectly fine with me.”

“Do you all have a chess set?” Hux asks, turning his wheelchair to face Kay better.

“Does dejarik count?”

Of course, he would suggest that game for scoundrels. “If you don’t have a chess set, that will do.”

After doing some shopping around among his cohorts, he does eventually find someone with a chess set. Rey guides him to her room and finds a wooden case on one of her neat shelves.

“It was Luke’s. Never got the chance to play it with him myself,” she says wistfully, brushing her hand over the engraving in the case. “Still babysitting?” The pieces rattle around inside as she turns it over and presents it to Kay.

“Yeah,” Kay nods. “We’re trying something new.”

“Oh?”

Kay is a very skilled liar, but for some ridiculous reason, he finds it hard to lie in this moment. Maybe he’s embarrassed. “Good to exercise different parts of the mind while in isolation.”

“I wouldn’t call that isolation,” she counters. It’s no secret Poe’s elder brother has been tasked with keeping their spy alive and sane. She likes Kay. Although she’s closer to Poe, she’s certain she likes his brother more. They are similar in many facets. They’re both pragmatic, when they’re in the right state of mind. They share a liking for the solitude of silence. But above all, they are survivors.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Well, thanks for this. I’ll be sure to bring it back.”

“No rush. Enjoy the exercise,” she smiles, ushering him out.

When he returns, Hux has made room on his table for the game. He sets up the chess set, reverently placing each handcrafted piece onto the engraved wooden board.

“This is nice,” Hux says appreciatively.

“We’re borrowing, so be kind to it.” Kay smirks at Hux’s scoff, as if Hux would be anything but.

Halfway through their game, it would appear Hux and Kay are evenly matched. They’ve captured about the same amount of each other’s pieces, with Kay slightly more dispersed in the board.

“You’re good at this,” Kay says after a thoughtful moment, pondering his next move.

“Perhaps.”

Because Kay can’t help himself, he looks at his partner under his dark lashes. “We should make it interesting.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Hux grins. “Name your price.”

“Anything?”

“It’s not like I’ve got much. I’m not terribly worried,” Hux says.

Kay cups his jaw thoughtfully. “Tomorrow, you try the crutches again.”

Of course. “I loathe those crutches.”

“That’s my price. I win, and we try them again. Deal?” He knows it’s hard work, but it’s important to put the work in now, while he’s healing.

“Fine,” he scoffs, making his next move on the board. It hardly matters what Kay’s price is. Hux is certain he will best him. He already knows exactly how many moves it will take to do it.

“And if I win,” Hux tells him, “you get to bring your guitar down here and play me a song.”

Of all the things he thought Hux would request, a song was not one of them. The idea is a wild and unexpected one, but he will gladly oblige. He can’t believe Hux remembered him disclosing that. “You got yourself a deal,” he says lowly, unable to look away from Hux.

With glee, Hux straightens in his chair. “May the best man win.”

Strategy is Hux’s strong suit. There’s no denying it, especially now that Hux has a reason to finish the game on his terms. He sacrifices a few pawns and lesser pieces, as all wars do. In less than ten moves after they made their wager, Hux captures Kay’s king into a swift checkmate.

“Wow,” Kay groans. “That was brutal.”

“You put up a valiant effort.”

“And you were going easy on me in the beginning. Should have known that was a ruse.”

“That’s simply how it’s done.”

Kay laughs. “Oh, that’s how it’s done?”

“You let me pick the game. Naturally I was going to pick something I’m good at,” Hux parries back, basking in his win.

“Best two out of three. Now that I know what I’m up against,” Kay says. He relishes the company, the comradery, this unlikely friendship with the man who was supposed to be just a prisoner. “What is your next price? Another song, if you happen to win again?”

Hux shakes his head. “ _When_ I win again…” he says slyly, setting the board up once more. “I’d like for you to teach me.”

“Teach you?”

“How to play a song,” Hux clarifies. He says this knowing it will make Kay gawk. He’s never had this much fun before he met this man.

Ridiculously, Kay blushes. He’s normally very composed, but in recent weeks, Hux has made him feel clumsy with his emotions. “Alright,” he smiles, cracking his knuckles animatedly. He makes the first move, since Hux got the first move last game.

Of course, Hux would have beaten him if he skipped his turn twice. He makes Kay feel like a total fool as he ends the game in five minutes flat, happily cornering Kay’s king.

“That was riveting,” Hux proclaims.

“How did you do that?”

Hux shrugs, teething his lip, delighted.

“You kicked my ass. So fast, too.”

“I had the proper motivation.” Hux clasps his hands in his lap. “I’d like my prize now.”

Kay laughs. “Right now?”

“It’s barely past dinner,” Hux says. Embarrassment riddles him as he takes in Kay’s silence and apparent discomfort. “Unless you don’t want to,” he adds, consumed with dread if Kay were to refuse his request.

“I do,” Kay assures him. “I promise I do,” he adds unnecessarily.

Hux smiles, tidying up the chess set. His heart is pounding. How did he manage to boldly demand Kay play him a song? He’s baffled not only because he had the audacity to do so, but because it worked, and Kay seems to be just as eager as he is.

Kay takes the chess set and goes to return it to Rey’s quarters. It’s unlocked, and she is thankfully not around, so he tucks it away without getting noticed.

It feels odd that he’s sneaking around like this. It’s not like he’s breaking any rules or hurting anyone by doing this with Hux. He finds his guitar in his room, encased and untouched in months. He makes sure that the instrument is functional and marches back to Hux’s room, heart in his throat. He looks back and forth for any nosey onlookers who might dare cast judgement on what he’s doing with their prisoner.

When he reenters Hux’s room, Hux has made himself comfortable on his cot. He slid over so that there is plenty of room for Kay to sit beside him. His blanket is pooled in his lap, looking all kinds of endearing. Kay takes a seat in the empty space and sets up his guitar to tune. He feels the instrument, plucking softly to ensure it is tuned.

“It’s been a while,” he warns Hux, who sits patiently and half-cross-legged.

“No need to hesitate. You’re already impressing me.”

“Feels good to hear you finally say that out loud,” Kay smirks.

Hux rolls his eyes. He adjusts himself to get more comfortable and watches Kay’s fingers deftly strum several incongruent chords. Then, Kay begins his tune. The ever-present infatuation Hux has for him grows tenfold as Kay pieces together an even melody. Kay concentrates on the strings. Hux watches on, treasuring every moment. It’s been so long since he’s heard music.

Kay plays a song from his youth. He used to practice a lot with his father while he was alive, before the Damerons came into his life. It pours out of his heart and down from his fingers, filling the space between them. After a couple of minutes, he finishes, connecting eyes with Hux. Hux, who looks as if Kay just played a grand symphony.

“That was…very nice,” Hux says softly.

“Your turn,” Kay grins, scooting closer.

Hux shakes his head. “No need. I rescind that part of my prize.”

“What? Why?” he gasps, scandalized.

“What’s the use? I’ll never be able to compare with you.”

“It’s not a competition. I thought you wanted to learn,” Kay says, trying to sound encouraging. He’s pleased Hux enjoyed his performance and relishes these charming moments of his.

It’s not the damned guitar that he cares about. He wanted to learn from Kay, because he craves his attention. Once he got a taste, he lusted after it. “Fine,” Hux sighs, sitting up straight. “I _am_ a fast learner.”

“Then you have little to worry about,” Kay smiles. It makes Hux blush being on the receiving end of that smile.

Kay demonstrates how best to hold the guitar, the appropriate posture, and explains how to strum a few chords and keep proper finger placements. He slides closer to Hux, who fidgets with his blanket.

“Take this, and balance it on your knee, and put your arm around—yeah, like that,” Kay instructs, guiding Hux’s hands with his own. From behind, Kay articulates Hux’s fingers in the first placement. Hux clumsily strums the strings, teething his lip. It’s incredibly difficult to concentrate with Kay’s warmth radiating into his back, his patient, soothing voice in his ear.

“This is next on the scale,” Kay says, leading Hux’s fingers into the right placement. He gets a bit too close, accidentally brushing his cheek against Hux’s brilliant red hair. Hux does a few strums of each chord, trying to get a hang of the new motion. Kay corrects his strumming hand, encasing his fingers within his own.

Hux’s heart is racing. He can barely concentrate on the task with Kay so close to him. Kay’s fingers through his own seals his fate like a key in a lock.

“How does that feel?” Kay asks, soft and sultry in his ear.

“I don’t have much of an opinion.”

Kay chuckles. He absorbs the pinch of concentration in Hux’s face. “You’re a natural.”

“Right.”

“Try bending your wrist a bit,” Kay tells him. Hux complies, and jerks his face into his, on accident. Kay’s cheekbone brushes Hux’s, alerting him to how close they’ve gotten tonight. Kay’s heart leaps, blood rushing to his heart, his head, and his crotch.

There’s no mistaking what he feels is attraction towards Hux. The revelation sparks a bolt of shock into his heart. He doesn’t hear what Hux says next.

“Kay?”

“Yes…” Kay says, pulling himself together.

“I think I’ve got the hang of it,” Hux says, sitting up straight. Hux beams at him, clearly proud of his accomplishment. Kay’s brow purses, staring at his patient in bafflement. Hux shows Kay his alternating chords. Two simple notes, but to Kay, it’s the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard.

Kay slides away, suddenly feeling as if he’s invaded Hux’s space. Gaping at the floor, Kay contemplates where he goes from here.

“What is it?” Hux asks, concern piquing. “I know I’m terrible, but don’t give up on me yet,” he smirks, trying to abate his nerves with playfulness. As much as he loathes to admit it, he’s sensitive to criticism, especially from someone he cares about.

“It’s nothing,” Kay assures him, but his mind is racing. “You’ve done well.”

Doesn’t seem like nothing. Hux sets the guitar across his lap. He stares at Kay’s profile, searching for answers to his behavior. He’s never seen Kay like this. Guarded.

“Thank you. For the lesson,” Hux smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course,” Kay says, swallowing.

“I’m tired,” Hux says quickly, holding out the guitar for Kay to take.

Hux ogles Kay as he packs up the guitar in silence, his face stiff and thoughtful. Hux molds his small form into the bed. What had he done wrong?

“Sleep well,” Kay says, guitar case clutched against his chest. He looks dolefully at Hux, wrapped up on his large cot. His heart wavers when Hux stares back at him with contemplative green-grey eyes. He knows the exact color, just as he knows how pink Hux’s cheeks get when he’s embarrassed, annoyed, or enraged. He knows that exact color just as he knows the unforgettable orange of Hux’s soft hair. Hair that he felt against his fingertips, brushing against his cheek.

He has to leave, now.

Hux frowns as Kay closes the door behind him. He rolls onto his back, confused, eyes filling with tears.

Outside the door, Kay secures the security latch. His body lurches, spinning around with the meat of his back colliding with the door. He closes his eyes.

This isn’t friendship he feels any longer, nor is it admiration for a patient, or an unlikely bond with the enemy. It is, and it isn’t. There exists an unignorable, undeniable attraction, both physical and otherwise. It’s who Hux is, what he’s endured, the damage he’s caused. It’s who Hux was and what he’s become. His heart aches dangerously, his mind wrapping around what he’s done to himself.

It’s not right. Hux is his patient. He’s a prisoner who is healing and deserves the utmost respect and care from him. He doesn’t deserve to be lusted after by a man meant to protect him and advocate for him. Kay sinks to the floor, ashamed.

Boot-steps alert him he’s not alone.

Kay snaps his head up. Poe looks down at him, grimacing in confusion.

He gets to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Poe glares at the closed door. “Was looking for you,” he says flatly.

“What’s up?”

“It’s late.”

“Yes, it is.”

Poe frowns. He flicks his chin towards the lift. “Let me walk you home.”

Their walk is dead silent. From the corner of his eye, Kay can see Poe clenching his jaw. His heart thuds madly in his chest. His brother is clever. What if Poe somehow knows everything? How Kay spends his days, his nights, how he feels about Hux?

Poe seals them both inside Kay’s quarters, refusing to take a seat when it’s offered.

“Something on your mind?” Kay asks, sliding the incriminating guitar case under his bed.

“What gave you that idea,” Poe deadpans.

“Just a suspicion.”

“Suspicion, right,” Poe smiles bitterly. “Some of my own _suspicions_ were raised when I came down to your room looking for you. But nope, no Kay. But then I thought to myself—where does Kay spend all his time?”

It’s Kay’s turn to glare. They don’t fight often, but when they do, they burn hotly.

“You spend nearly every meal with him, taking him out on walks, keeping him entertained. I began to think that maybe you’re losing control of the situation.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Kay defends.

“You call late night guitar performances a part of your job? They teach you that in med school?”

“It wasn’t a performance. It was…” How can he explain himself out of this? “For morale.”

“Morale?” Poe parrots, incredulous.

“He needs motivation. You’ve seen him. He’s been working night and day for you, neglecting his mental and physical health. It takes a toll,” Kay lies. Hux is doing better than ever. “I’m just doing what you asked me to do.”

Poe stares at him, choosing his next words carefully. “Hux is a dangerous man. He will try and manipulate you if he gets the chance.”

“You think I’m easily manipulated?” Kay asks, plopping down and peeling off his shoes and socks.

“Kay, I’m serious. He’s probably thought of a dozen ways to get you to break him out. He’s a snake, only thinks about himself.”

At that, Kay seethes. He deliberately hides his fire from Poe. This just goes to show how little Poe understands Hux. Hux has no one, nothing. No ties, no allies. He willingly came to their base as a last resort. Poe has no clue what Hux has been through. He’s tired of pretending Hux doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt, now that he’s completely defected. He bites his tongue, because if Poe gets a whiff of the immensity that Kay cares for Hux, there is no telling what his brother will do.

“I am good at my job,” Kay says instead.

“I know you are. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have gotten this much use out of him.”

Kay stares at the concrete floor, resenting Poe’s language. He must remind himself that Poe is in a taxing position. But now that the depth of his feelings has been realized, he finds himself aligning farther away from Poe’s impeccable morals. He’s steered farther from the good of the mission, Poe’s noble agenda, the Resistance and all its glory. His alliance is with Hux, and it shocks him how certain he is.

“You’re a good man, and I trust you,” Poe tells him. “I know you have my back. Promise me that you’ll watch yours.”

 _You’re a good man._ That is one sentence he would love to never hear again. _Good_. Is this a word he uses to characterize himself? If Poe knew the truth about his past, the people he slaughtered so Poe wouldn’t have to, perhaps he’d hesitate. Maybe he would hate him if he found out Kay has little remorse. That although he knows he should feel guilty, he doesn’t.

“Goodnight, Poe,” Kay sighs. After a beat, Poe concedes to Kay’s dismissal.

This is was ultimately divides them. Poe, who leads and fights, the rebel hero, crusader for all things just. Kay, who follows and protects, the man with a skillset, healer and assassin. Kay, who twenty years ago would have just as easily joined the First Order if that’s where Poe chose to lead them.


	8. Smile

The following morning, Hux is determined to get Kay to open up to him regarding his behavior last night. Like most mornings, Hux wakes about an hour before Kay graces him with his presence, long enough to bathe in his sitting shower, dress himself, and dry and comb his hair. He’s already started his day’s work, too, booting up his terminal and organizing his files.

Along with his breakfast, Kay brings him a warm smile. “Good morning,” Kay greets, setting the tray down. Hux notices something peculiar about the tray: there is one dish of oatmeal, and one cup of coffee. Today is the first day in weeks that Kay has decided not to join him for breakfast.

“Busy morning, I take it?” Hux asks despondently, stirring his oatmeal.

“Of course. This morning is physical therapy, remember?”

“Oh.” Yes, he remembers. “You’re skipping breakfast?”

Kay hesitates. “I already ate.”

Hux leaves his explanation hanging in the air. Last night, and now this. Surely, he has done something wrong.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” Kay excuses himself, leaving Hux alone with his meal.

Why is Kay being like this? It’s as if a switch has been flicked. Hux clenches his jaw, focusing on his meal until Kay returns. After his lonesome breakfast, Kay reenters his room, smiling as if there isn’t anything off about his behavior.

This time, Kay plans to increase his resistance training by having him lay on the floor. Kay strips his cot of the mattress and plops it down with a thud. Hux reluctantly makes it to the space below with Kay’s assistance and lies flat on his back. They’ve done this exercise many times before from the cot. But now, under this veil of discomfort, he no longer relishes Kay’s hands and attention.

Hux begins with stretches as Kay assists, his leg out in the air and Kay’s broad, warm hands on his calve and ankle.

“Arch your foot. Now relax it,” Kay instructs, guiding Hux’s movements. Hux stares at the ceiling and concentrates. After several repetitions, Kay instructs him to relax while he keeps a light hold on his ankle. “How do feel today?”

“Fine.”

“You’re keeping most of the muscle mass. Your body should take well to a prosthesis when the time comes. We just have to worry about the tissue in your other leg, but typically higher-end prostheses come with many adjustments,” Kay tells him evenly, neutral as can be.

The infuriating droid-like tone makes something in Hux snap. Hux jabs his sock-covered toe directly into Kay’s stomach. Kay grunts, gaping in confusion.

“What was that for?”

Pointedly looking away from him, Hux shrugs.

Kay is an idiot. Since realizing how far he’s fallen for Hux, he tried to establish distance between them. _Hux is his patient_ , and regardless of how he feels, he needs to respect Hux’s space and time. He shouldn’t have forced himself into every minute of Hux’s day. Clearly, his efforts of distancing have struck something within Hux, who perceived his self-discipline as coldness. It’s a double-edged sword. He doesn’t want to breach Hux’s trust, but he also doesn’t want Hux to think they cannot be friends. If they cannot be friends, then that will not be a rule he upholds.

Kay recovers from Hux’s sneak attack and seeks his revenge. He snatches Hux’s ankle and dances his fingertips on the arch of his foot. Hux yelps and against his will, his face splits into a pained grin as he tries to free himself. After a few seconds of torture, Kay relents.

Once freed, Hux pulls his leg towards his chest, biting his lip. Kay beams down at him full of warmth, and if he knew what it was like to fall in love, Hux is sure it would feel something like this.

Without warning, Kay drops to lie on the space beside him, the floor hard against his back. Hux stares at him, consuming the shape of Kay beside him, those dark eyes focused above and lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” Kay finally says. “I’ve just been…thinking.”

“About?”

 _About you, about us_. _About the treacherous thoughts I have about you that haunt me at night._ Kay searches for the right words. “I want to help you. More than anything, I want to give you the best care that I can. Above all, even above the Resistance’s agenda.”

Above all. Could he dare hope that to be true? “I don’t have any complaints. Well. Except for this morning,” Hux tells him, glaring at his profile. “We normally share breakfast. I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

“I am very sorry about that. Last night, I ran into my brother. He got in my head about how I’m seeing to my duties.” It’s not the entire truth. These feelings he has for Hux are his own fault and he’s a coward for not owning up to it.

Hux withholds a snappy retort. Poe is Kay’s brother, and at the very least, he can keep his mouth free of insults while Kay is trying to share something personal. “What did he say?”

“He knows I’ve been…behaving in ways deemed unprofessional. He doesn’t approve. Especially after he caught me with my guitar. He thought it was inappropriate. He doesn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Hux asks, swallowing.

“That you’re more than just his prisoner or a ward to the Resistance. You’re my friend.” Kay closes his eyes briefly, finding the right words. “Before you got here, I was without direction. It wasn’t objectionable, but I finally saw what was missing,” Kay says, stopping himself before he admits too much. Still, he wants Hux to know that he values him. Kay turns his head, regarding Hux deeply. “I’ve never been…compelled…by anyone. And then I met you.”

Hux swallows again, hearth thudding behind his ribs. If only he were bold enough to close the space between them, to be wrapped within the anchors of Kay’s arms and against his chest. To kiss him, to seal them together. He’s never done anything like that, nor has he wanted to, before Kay. He looks down and tried to quell these irrational desires.

“Can we not be friends?” Hux asks, wanting that, and so much more.

Kay smiles in the warm way that reaches all parts of his face. “Yeah. Of course,” he says, determined to stick to this decision.

“I hope you’ll join me for lunch today,” Hux says softly.

It has been wonderful filling his days with Hux at his side. Kay was foolish to think he could stop himself from indulging in this precious time. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

\--

Hux is proud of himself. He has gone from sniveling traitor, to pathetic invalid, and now lives as a valued asset to the Resistance sworn to help destroy that which remains of his once-coveted First Order. He revels in the idea that his designs are now being coopted by the Resistance, powering their ramshackle fleet and guiding their missiles with his expert tracking systems. Poe and Finn don’t share much of their progress with him. That is, until today.

Months ago, he submitted his first design for Poe and Finn’s approval. Now, he sits at his workstation watching the projections from their ancient astromech droid, R2-D2.

“Poe and I wanted to show you how you have helped bring a large faction of the First Order to its knees,” Finn says, signaling for the droid to zoom into a map of what is clearly the Outer Rim. “Here, here, and here. All of them star destroyer maintenance stations. Thanks to you, we were able to track them through lightspeed and blow them to hell.”

Finn notes the delight lighting up Hux’s face. He doesn’t know if Hux is doing this for revenge, or because he’s bored, or even on the off chance he truly denounces the First Order and their fascistic ideology. They’re winning, and it would be a lie if he said Hux’s help wasn’t critical.

“I appreciate your candor,” Hux tells them, smile growing when Kay gives him a thumbs-up where Finn and Poe can’t see it. Hux hasn’t been this happy in years, if ever.

Outside, Finn leads R2 to the lift. Kay stops Poe with a hand on his bicep. “Poe. Isn’t it time?” Kay narrows his eyes at his brother’s apparent confusion. “The leg, Poe. The damned leg.”

Poe crosses his arms. “He seems to be progressing just fine without it.”

“We had a deal.” _We_. “You made a deal with him,” Kay amends, forcing himself to remove his personal feelings. “Hux has been invaluable to us. It’s time you uphold your end of the bargain.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Kay blanches, not understanding why Poe wouldn’t comply with his end of their bargain. “He kept his end, given you more than enough.”

“Kay, drop it.”

“No. Not until you tell me why he doesn’t deserve a prosthesis,” Kay fumes.

“I’m giving you an order. End of discussion.”

“Do you enjoy seeing him like this? Hobbled and ridden to a wheelchair?”

Poe recoils as his brother’s massive misjudgment of his character. Never has he gotten into as many fights with his brother as he has within the past months. Poe searches his face, trying to understand his rashness. “I oversee the Resistance, but I am not the guy pulling the strings. We have constituents. If it comes out that our spy—a high ranking ex officer of the First Order—is getting special treatment and profiting off his situation, it would weaken our constituents’ faith in us. I can’t risk that, Kay. Not for him.”

Kay grinds his jaw. “You gave him your word.”

“We don’t make deals with fascist leaders. Not ones that took pleasure in executing an order to slaughter billions of innocent people.”

Finally, the truth comes out. Kay concludes one thing: Poe is blinded. He refuses to see Hux for who he truly is. Hux has been helping them all this time, serving with grace and compelled by his own free will. They’re on the same side now. What more does Hux have to do to prove this? No amount of begging, nor reasoning with Poe will help Hux now. Kay must help Hux himself.

“Where will he go next, once you run out of use for him?”

“That’s not for you or me to decide. Our constituents are powerful, and they will have a say in his future. But I am the one that is forced to make these types of difficult decisions, the ones that will keep us unified. I thought you understood that,” Poe says solemnly.

“I see your word means nothing now,” Kay growls.

“You’re not thinking straight. You’re too involved. I think it’s time you terminate your assignment with him.”

Kay seethes outwardly, struck dumb. The idea that Poe could rip them apart terrifies him. Because of this, he must concede to Poe’s demands. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “You’re right,” he lies. “You’re right about everything. I’m sorry. We must think about the rest of our mission with our allies. I was wrong to put this amount of pressure on you,” he laments, feigning sincerity.

Immediately, Poe is deceived. He palms Kay’s shoulder reassuringly. “I know this is difficult. I’m sorry it has to be this way. I really am.”

Kay wraps an arm around Poe’s shoulder, pulling him in close. The embrace is warm and genuine. They wallow with remorse for what they must do to one another; Poe, who believes Kay has conceded to their agreement, and Kay, who intends to betray his brother’s trust.

“Come on. Let me walk you to home,” Poe tells him.

“That’s alright. I need to swing by with evening medications for your favorite prisoner,” Kay says, patting Poe’s arm. Hux does not take any medications at this hour, and is likely already asleep, but he must give him an urgent message. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Thankfully, Poe relinquishes his space. He waves him off, wordlessly permitting him to continue his duties to Hux and clearly having more important things to deal with.

\--

Hux finds himself clutching his pillow, trying and failing to fall asleep. He exhales, indulging in a fantasy of his. It’s an incredibly embarrassing one, but it never fails to bring his heart comfort. In his fantasy, Kay sneaks into his room just before he falls asleep. Kay strips off his shirt so he can join him in bed, his warm chest plastered against Hux’s back and molding behind him head to toe. Hux lays on his side and digs his forearm into his waist with his palm firm against his belly, imagining a larger, firmer arm pulling him close.

He is just about to slip into sleep when his door opens. He rouses in shock, clutching his blanket. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kay murmurs. He kneels at Hux’s bedside, level with his pillow. “I need to tell you something. It’s urgent.”

“Are you alright?” Hux asks earnestly.

Hux’s open concern for him strikes him. Gone is the last shard of doubt Kay has for what he is about to do. “I’m fine. I…have a very important errand to run. Crucial medical supplies that require my direct attention. I will be back in a few days.”

Kay does not tell Hux any of the details, that he is running off-world to acquire Hux’s prosthesis. No one knows because he is not using any funds from the Resistance. Every credit towards the limb will be of his own. From his calculations, purchasing the limb will leave him penniless and with a substantial debt. But now is the time, before Poe or the powers out of their control can take Hux away from him. At least Hux will be able to stand on two legs. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

“Oh. That sounds important,” Hux hums.

“I’ll return as quickly as possible. One of my medics will bring you your meals and fresh clothes if you require it.”

“There is no need to worry about me. I’m very self-sufficient,” Hux smiles. Being without Kay for multiple days sounds unbearable, but he knows Kay does critical work here. He is, however, buzzing from the fact that Kay was considerate enough to take the time to inform him of his departure.

“I know you are,” Kay beams. Overcome with adoration, Kay lays a hand over the one Hux has resting on his pillow. His thumb brushes against the back of Hux’s hand, the contact too long and too much. But he is powerless to quell what’s in his heart.

“Be careful,” Hux says, though he hasn’t a clue why he allowed such a sentiment to slip out. But it seems to please Kay, who smiles in a way that makes him look like he’s in pain. With that, Kay leaves him, bidding him goodnight.

\--

It takes a day and a half to procure the best prosthesis money can buy. Kay doesn’t have the excess of contacts that he had when he and Poe were indentured to spice runners, but there are still is a few individuals that he trusts to provide a quality product. He chose to purchase the prosthesis this way to avoid leaving a trail. He gets a better deal when bartering with smugglers, anyway.

Off world, Kay skims through the installation notes for the tools that he must attach to the droid back home without help, as the dealer sorts out his billing. He’s dealt with this man before, decades ago, buying weapons and poisons.

“Thought you might be dead, it’s been so long,” the dealer remarks, sorting through his bill.

“It has been a while. I appreciate you seeing me.”

“Anything for an old friend.”

“Still making deals with scum?” Kay mutters, opening the casing to reveal the leg. It’s fit for a six-foot tall human man, light skinned, feathered with artificial pale hairs. The droid should be able to articulate it so that it fits the small portion of Hux’s leg. He drags his hand down the synthetic flesh, then withdraws it, too quickly.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Kay ignores him, making sure everything is in working order. He has installed limbs before in his residency, and the high-end appendages like these are simplified with the use of advanced, expertly programmed droids. He is confident Hux can have this leg installed by tomorrow.

“Heard about that brother of yours. He really has gone up in the world. Gang property to Resistance general.”

At that, Kay prickles. “If you value your life, you will not speak of this to Poe.” Not until he has the limb installed, anyway. Kay is prepared to face the consequences of his actions.

“Easy, easy. Just making conversation.”

“People don’t pay you for conversation,” Kay mutters. Regardless, he is satisfied with the product. He watches as the dealer empties his accounts and fills up additional debt chips to make up the difference.

“Pay me, they do,” his dealer grins. “Alright, Kay Dameron. All is set. Enjoy your new leg.”

Kay seals the case and scoops both the leg and the tools underneath either arm. Dameron isn’t his name; it’s Goron, but he doesn’t bother correcting the man. It’s time for Hux to become whole again.

\--

Hux doesn’t pay any mind the medic assigned to him while Kay is away. He has plenty of work to do. Now, he’s focusing on refurbishing their weapons, making their fleet more efficient at targeting enemy ships. His designs are genius, really. Here, he may be confined to this room, but at least he is appreciated.

Hux thinks back to the other night, Kay’s smile gracing his handsome face, his broad hand over his own. When Kay comforts him, it’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced. He longs for more touches, more words, hands and … _skin_ and _mouths_. Hux swallows, pushing those thoughts from his mind. What purpose does it serve to yearn, to suffer with lovesickness? It’s pathetic.

When Kay returns the next day, he appears scruffier than usual. His mustache is untrimmed, hair a bit too long, sweat on his brow. Hux concludes it’s a very good look for him, apart from the fact he looks as if he hasn’t slept in days.

“Everything went according to plan, I hope,” Hux greets warmly, wheeling himself from his desk. It’s just past dinner and he’s wrapping up the evening’s work.

“It did,” Kay says, taking a deep breath. “I have incredible news. Poe finally agreed to uphold the end of his deal.”

Shock lights up Hux’s face. “You mean…”

“That’s where I was off to. I was picking up your prosthesis. I went out and purchased it as soon as Poe gave me the word,” he lies. “It’s time to get you back on your feet.”

Elation overcomes him. Finally, after months and months in this damned chair, he will finally be able to stand on two legs. He laughs, overjoyed.

“I have everything we need,” Kay tells him, making a mental checklist of the things he must smuggle into this room. Now is the perfect time, since the halls will be quieter during night cycle.

“I can hardly believe it,” Hux gasps.

“Let’s do it right now. You’ve waited long enough.”

Energized, Hux bursts with gratitude. “Alright. I’m ready.” He chuckles when Kay darts out of the room for the supplies.

It strikes him how Kay is just as excited for him. Kay has been there with him every step of the journey. He helped him in his most pathetic moments; he carried him from bed to chair and back again, resuscitated him, and even helped him piss. Kay has spent these past months playing with him and teasing him as if they were schoolchildren. The care he’s given him has been strange and addicting, and it’s kept him on the edge of his seat longing for more. 

This condition has made him feel weak, useless, hideous. But it only took a matter of hours after he escaped execution from the First Order for Kay to swoop in and save his life. Kay helped him feel strong and capable, even when he was less of a man.

To think that soon, there won’t be the need for Kay to carry him like a newly wedded bride into a speeder, or wheel him into the jungle to lift his spirits up, fills him with fresh dread. He looks down at his hideous form. It now hits him that since he and Kay grew close, his condition has become an afterthought. Once he is fixed, there will be no reason for Kay to waste his energy on him.

Losing his leg marked the beginning of their story. What if getting it back marks the end of it?

Kay makes it back to the room with the whirring medical droid in tow. Uncertain, Hux ogles the large case. “I can’t believe it,” Hux murmurs, staring at Kay efficiently attaching the tools to the medical droid. Kay invests in changing Hux’s sheets.

“Why are we setting up here?” Hux asks, a bit confused.

Kay doesn’t divert his attention from the setup. “I figured this would be an ideal place for you to rest afterwards. In your own room with your own bed.”

“I suppose it has gotten comfortable in here,” Hus hums. Very comfortable, especially with Kay.

For one last time, Kay lifts Hux onto the cot and lays him down. Hux closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he sheds his leggings and lies flat in his grey briefs. They’re imperfect, like him, left side hemmed short. He won’t be needing those again. The medical droid takes Kay’s place as he goes to attach the oxygen mask. Kay will be putting him under for this part, just to be safe.

“Ready?” Kay asks, holding Hux’s worried gaze.

“I am,” Hux replies. It’s finally time to become whole.

Hux is told to relax as Kay gingerly secures the apparatus onto Hux’s face. Hux’s lids flutter closed, unconscious.

After six hours, the droid was able to adjust and install the prosthesis based on Hux’s measurements—both of his intact leg and the remaining portion of Hux’s amputated thigh. The droid took care of making the impossibly precise sutures and generation of artificial bone and sinew. While the droid is concluding its tests, Kay takes a break from his vigil. Kay flops back onto the room’s lone chair, scraping a hand through his sweat-matted hair. Finally, Hux can heal.

The droid finishes its tests and vocalizes that the patient should be kept under for another 24 hours to ensure the bone synthesis completes, uninterrupted. Kay pierces Hux’s vein with a steady drip of nutrients to keep his stomach from aching and his body fully hydrated. Once the remainder of the anesthetic has been injected, Kay pulls up his chair to watch Hux’s peaceful face. Down his body, Hux’s two, near-identical legs lay poised.

Kay takes Hux’s limp hand in his own. He’s done something incredibly dangerous on Hux’s behalf. He has tentative hopes Hux will forgive him for lying to him. Poe on the other hand, may not be easily convinced that Kay had done the just and righteous thing.

Did he do it to be just? Or did he do it for Hux, plain and simple?

Reverently, Kay cradles Hux’s soft palm between both of his own. He tips his forehead into Hux’s cool fingers. He is an expert liar, but he has never been able to lie to himself.

\--

Hux wakes to the discomfort of a cotton-parched mouth. He pries his eyes open through dense fog. Kay’s face is the first thing he sees.

“Good morning,” Kay grins. His voice is like music.

Hux groans in appreciation as Kay bends a straw to his waiting mouth. After several noisy gulps, Hux flops back onto his pillow, staring up at him.

“You look better,” Hux commends, noting Kay’s neatly trimmed mustache and his combed hair. He feels as if he’s just woken up from the deepest sleep of his lifetime.

Kay sets down his water cup. Hux hasn’t looked down yet, which makes Kay smile harder in excitement.

“As do you,” Kay murmurs, waiting for Hux to realize what’s happened. Hux’s eyes round like saucers, and finally, he looks down.

Under his blanket are two, perfectly symmetrical legs. Stunned, Hux twitches his feet. Both respond synchronously. He gasps, gaping in awe at Kay. It’s far too overwhelming to truly believe. He grips the blanket and reveals the fresh, human limb beneath.

The prosthesis isn’t perfect. It is the faintest of shades darker than his own pale skin. Its toes are not quite the same length and size distribution compared to his own. The kneecap isn’t as rosy as his own. But with all these imperfections, all Hux sees is symmetry. Perfect, undeniable symmetry. He wriggles all ten of his toes to confirm once more that indeed, he is whole again.

Hux laughs, awestruck. He doesn’t have any words. His throat thickens, eyes stinging with the threat of tears. Kay’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, warm with congratulations.

“How does it feel? Any pain?” Kay asks.

Hux shakes his head. He takes his trembling fingers to the synthetic skin, brow pursing as his brain registers _touch._ It’s as if he’s had it this whole time. He runs his fingers over the slight color change where synth-skin has molded to his real skin, feeling no difference between the two.

Already, the limb feels like his own. The joy fades quickly, filling his heart with fear. Fear that this replacement limb will be the end of Kay’s diligent care for him. He’s not an invalid anymore.

Kay stands up and steps to the end of the cot. With two hands, he pinches each of Hux’s big toes. From the look on Hux’s face, everything appears to be in working order. Then, the need to play overcomes him. He takes his fingers and drives them tantalizingly into the bottom of Hux’s new foot. Hux reacts, yanking the prothesis away with a pained grin.

That just about does it for Hux. Tears slip from his eyes and he swats them away, tumbling through gratitude, joy, and the unshakable adoration he has for Kay.

“Sorry—”

Hux cuts him off with a laugh. “The hell have you got to be sorry for? I’m just—emotional,” Hux groans, choking back more tears. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I understand.” Hux is a man who feels things so deeply, but never before had any outlet for those feelings. Kay wishes he could aide him; he wants Hux to know that he can be himself around him.

“I just never believed your brother would reward me with this,” Hux sighs, drawing his new knee up to his chest and closing his eyes. “I know we made a deal, but it didn’t go unnoticed that I didn’t have any leverage anymore, so there was no real reason for him to honor it.” He’s amazed that Poe Dameron would purchase a limb like this—for him, of all people. He knows that Dameron only complied in order to make good on their bargain. But a part of him wants to believe that Dameron did this as a token of appreciation, honor, and respect for their newfound partnership.

Kay’s smile falters, and a shadow of remorse flickers over his features. Now that the installation is complete, Hux needs to know the truth.

“What if I told you that he didn’t approve of this?” Kay says, low and steady.

Hux doesn’t understand. “What?”

“What if I said that after I begged Poe to make good on his word, he told me that he couldn’t, because of who you are,” Kay tells him. “That I went behind his back and got you one anyway.”

Hux’s face falls. The idea of a truce between he and Poe Dameron vanishes, and now the fact that he’ll never earn his trust or respect fills him with fear. This doesn’t make sense. Why would Kay do this?

Kay kneels beside the bed. It is imperative that Hux doesn’t blame himself for what Kay did. “Poe wouldn’t hear reason. He doesn’t want to show mercy with you. But I know he will come around, once he sees all that you’ve done for him.”

This is madness. Hux swallows thickly, looking up at Kay for answers. “I don’t imagine this was cheap. He will probably think I tricked you into blowing hundreds of thousands of the Resistance’s credits on something like this for someone like me,” Hux laments, still not comprehending why Kay would go to such lengths for him.

“I didn’t touch their money. I used only my own. There is no one to bear the blame but me,” Kay implores.

“Wh…why? Why would you do this?”

“I _had to,_ ” Kay says, with conviction. “Poe said that you weren’t worth the scrutiny the Resistance would get for rewarding you like this. But I know your worth and I don’t give a damn what any of them think.”

Hux’s eyes fill with fresh tears, stricken speechless at Kay’s confession. “I don’t…”

“Don’t dwell on this. Please,” Kay begs, trying to gain some semblance of control over himself. This is the time for Hux to regain his strength. He shouldn’t be confronting him with this. Hux isn’t at fault. Kay is the one that deliberately betrayed Poe. “Are you ready to get on your feet?”

“Alright,” Hux rasps, heart so full and thumping between his ribs.

Kay holds his hands out for Hux to take. With some hesitation, Hux allows himself to be pulled upright. Nothing seems out of place, safe for a dull ache in his thigh muscle. He winces but adjusts to the new position.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, not really. It’s just a bit stiff.”

After a breath, Kay guides Hux to hang his legs off the side. His toes brush the floor, and he shivers at the chill beneath both feet. It’s now or never. With Kay’s support, Hux gets to his feet for the first time in many long months. The pressure is strange and intense now that he’s got both feet secured flat. He straightens his back and pries his eyes away from the floor. Breath escapes him. Finally, he sees Kay eye-to-eye.

Kay stares to Hux, the anticipation culminating as they finally share the same plane of vision. It’s as if they are meeting for the first time. He looks Hux up and down and squeezes Hux’s hands harder as Hux tests his balance. If he relinquished his hold, Hux would be standing on his own.

“Amazing,” Kay blurts, blushing furiously at his inappropriateness but knowing the word to be true.

Hux hasn’t got a response to that. Then, hand in hand, Kay encourages Hux to take a step. Hux moves with his new leg first, then his other, and after a short trek, he’s made it to the other side of the room. The dull ache in his limb persists, but adrenaline drowns it out.

“You may feel a bit of discomfort, but once your body completely heals, you will be walking without hindrance. You’re showing good balance, good posture.” Kay swallows, staring at the top of Hux’s head as he stares at the ground in muted awe. “I told you. You worked tirelessly for this. This is all you,” Kay commends.

Hux cannot restrain himself. Overcome, he stumbles forward and crushes Kay in a desperate embrace. His lean arms wrap earnestly around Kay’s neck, fitting his chin snugly in the space there. Hux melts against him when Kay immediately reciprocates. His arms lock around his ribcage, pulling him impossibly close. Oh, it’s heaven to be held like this. Hux breathes in Kay’s scent, and its warm and sweet and fills him to the brim.

Kay stifles the panic at Hux this close, now lost in the feeling of them connected, molded into one. Hux in his arms like this is maddening. Blissful.

“Thank you,” Hux whispers.

Kay buries his nose in Hux’s soft hair, stifling the selfish want in his heart. _It is I who should be thanking you._ He shows restraint and withdraws from the embrace. Hux follows in suit, his pale hands like manacles on Kay’s biceps.

Then, bravely, Hux stands up straight, now on his own and with his hands poised at his sides. Hux, in just his underwear and thin shirt, stares back at Kay in wonder. “Everything in place?” Hux says shyly, not feeling an ounce of shame at the state of his undress.

Kay’s feelings are as immutable as they are damning. He nods, then narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Something isn’t right.”

“What?” Hux asks, concerned.

“You’re too tall. Taller than me.” Not by a lot, but it’s jarring to say the least.

Hux laughs, smile wide and free. “I assure you this is my proper height.”

“No, no. I think it needs adjusting,” he hums. Like a child, Kay springs forward and paws at Hux’s thigh.

Hux writhes, playing along with the horseplay, trying in vain to defend himself from Kay’s ridiculous tickling. “What _is_ it with you? Do you always solve problems like this— _ah_ —,” Hux yelps, losing his balance. But Kay is quick to catch him around his hips to save him from an avoidable mishap with the floor.

“Sorry,” Kay laments, biting his lip. “I just know that it makes you smile,” he murmurs. Kay’s impulsiveness takes over, pulling Hux close by the hips to balance him. Through his toying, he doesn’t give Hux much choice other than to fall flush against his abdomen. Hux’s hands instinctively fall onto his chest. There is no space between them, and they can no longer speak nor look away. Neither of them is laughing now.

Hux’s heart thrums madly as his hands animate as if they belong to another. But he has no one but himself to blame for what he does next because _this_ is what he wants—more than this leg, more than freedom, more than all the power the galaxy has to offer. Hux brings his trembling fingers to Kay’s neck and then to his skull, cradling him with purpose. Against him, Kay’s chest is rising and falling like a machine. He holds Kay’s wide eyes, and his longing heart brings him closer.

Because nothing stops him, Hux connects their mouths with a timid kiss. He’s hot all over, ears filled with the sound of his own throbbing pulse. Kay’s slack lips are unspeakably intoxicating. He had no idea that something as simple as this could feel like light beneath his skin.

When Hux pulls away, Kay flicks his eyes open just long enough to find Hux’s lips again, escalating from a chaste question to a kiss born from deep, repressed desire. He groans as Hux’s hands secure him close, trying to seal themselves together like two halves of a whole, once ripped apart. Hux is eager against him as Kay’s kisses become more and more bold and deliberate.

This shouldn’t be happening. Why is Kay allowing this to happen? Hux kissed him, and Kay is kissing him back. Kay surges forward, logic and reasoning completely gone. There is nothing besides Hux’s mouth, his hands, his body. Kay’s tongue dares a taste of Hux’s lips, and Hux’s jaw goes slack to welcome it. He pulls away only to gasp for air.

When they separate, Hux makes a small noise in his throat. He took a leap of faith. And _Kay kissed him back_ , with undeniable fervor. It was everything. But it’s Kay who breaks the silence, and then, his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Kay grates.

“What for?” Hux whines, licking his lips.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Kay whispers, brow tight with remorse. Hux’s hands grip his skull as his hands anchor him by his slim waist.

Hux searches Kay’s face for answers. “You…”

“I’m your doctor. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be…taking advantage of you like this.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. Kay has already let it get too far. The damage he’s done is irreparable.

Taking advantage? “You’re not. I… _want_ you. I’ve never felt like this before.” Hux wants to cry. He’s so close to getting the one thing he is now certain he cannot live without. Urgently, he attempts to articulate his truth. “I would have gone mad here without you. I owe you so much.”

 _I owe you_. Kay’s blood runs cold. It’s worse than he feared. He takes Hux’s hands and gently pries them from his neck, taking them reverently between his palms. “You aren’t thinking straight. Your body and mind are recovering. In time, you’ll see.” Kay briefly closes his eyes as if slipping deep into prayer for a heartbeat. “I’m so sorry that I let this happen.”

“No…” Hux shakes his head, mortified.

“I am your friend, but I am also your caregiver, and you are my patient. This is a betrayal of your trust and we can’t—”

“No!” Hux glares hotly, fuming with embarrassment and rage. “I _am_ thinking straight. I am.” How could Kay say this to him? Does he think he’s some weak-minded, malleable fool who would cling to any wet surface?

Kay loathes himself for causing Hux to hurt like this, but he doesn’t want to manipulate Hux anymore than he fears their situation has. “Please. You have to understand why we can’t.”

Why? _Don’t you want me?_ Hux wilts from heartache. The way Kay kissed him. That was real. For a moment of bliss, his desires became true. Now, Kay is saying that he’s not in the right mental state? He’s betrayed, humiliated. Hux pulls away, momentarily forgetting that he hasn’t gotten much of a chance to relearn how to walk. He stumbles, and Kay is there to catch him.

Hux leans against him but fights for control. Kay relents and allows Hux to find his own balance. He knows Hux is furious with him, but when he heals, he’ll see what now exists between them had blossomed under unethical circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” Kay whispers. This is the right thing to do. He cares about Hux far too much.

But Hux isn’t having it. He turns his nose away and withdraws completely, focusing on walking without any help from him.

Guilt stabs Kay deep in his chest. They’ll talk more about this, about the feelings Hux formed while in captivity. For now, they must focus on recovery. Kay keeps silent and watches Hux’s form. He stands there and remains a passive aide.

Without warning, the intercom on the wall howls with a sharp alarm. They both jump when it starts, and then once more when a distant, unmistakable explosion ricochets against the hall of the bunker outside.

Kay sprints to the door and powers on the door’s deadbolt. Is it the First Order? Have they found Hux? He quells panic, while enraged that he doesn’t carry a blaster.

Hux stands straight, back against the nearest wall, looking to Kay in fear and confusion. The air is thick with silence. Kay looks back at him, holding up a finger to his lips.

When the door is blown off its hinges, Kay is thrown unceremoniously onto his back.


	9. Apart

The armed, masked stranger carefully steps into the room. They hold up a blaster and aim for Kay’s chest.

“No!” Hux shouts, and with all his strength, he lunges into the line of fire, shielding Kay’s incapacitated form. “Don’t hurt him. Just take me. Please,” Hux cries.

The masked invader tilts their head, then lowers the blaster. The mask comes off with a flourish of choppy blond hair.

Instantly, Hux recognizes her. An old friend he thought long dead. Relief, confusion, and fear fill him at once.

“Phasma,” he breathes. “What are you doing here?”

Phasma has a grimace hardening her face, enhanced by her towering height and topped off by a gnarled patchwork of scars framing a metallic eyepatch. “I’m here to rescue you.”

Rescue him? How has she found him? And why? “I don’t need to be rescued, Phasma.” He turns, fraught from Kay’s injury. “Are you alright? Talk to me,” he murmurs, palming Kay’s face.

Thankfully, Kay opens his eyes. He tries to get up, but his shoulder and back aches with a fresh bruise. “Who the hell are you?” Kay growls, fiercely protective of Hux yet he can hardly move.

“I know her. This is my old friend, Phasma,” Hux tells him.

“You know her?”

“Very well.”

Kay shifts his glare from her to Hux. “You trust her?”

“That’s a bit of a stretch…”

Kay grabs his wrist, firm. “Hux.”

“I trust her. She’s my oldest friend. I thought she died years ago.”

Phasma scoffs. “I came here and risked my life to bust you out of captivity. You’re a prisoner of the Resistance, are you not?”

“It’s not what you think,” Hux says, looking back at Kay. He’s safe here, or at least he was. What happens now?

“We need to get moving,” she orders. “They are crawling down the lift shaft as we speak.”

Kay sits up, wincing from the pain. It’s very clear to him how this looks. How it will look to Poe and his constituents. “She’s right,” he mutters, too soft that Hux looks at him as if he had misheard.

“We’re almost out of time,” Phasma growls, quickly peering down the hallway.

“Poe isn’t gonna let you go free. He doesn’t think he has a choice, no matter how you’ve proved yourself. And now, with this, and the leg. I…” Kay swallows, loathing every word coming from his mouth. “I don’t want to see you locked up for good.”

“No,” Hux groans. How could Kay want this? He thought they were friends. He hoped they could be _more_.

“It’s about survival. You need to go,” Kay pleads. Life is a series of choices and this is a matter of life and death.

Everything within Hux screams wildly with rage. He made the mistake of kissing Kay and now he feels as though he’s being punished for those unwanted, unreciprocated feelings. Kay’s orders cut him deeply, but then he looks around at the room—the blown door, the sirens, and Kay’s bleary, wide-eyed gaze. There will be no coming back from this. The picture Kay paints is crystal clear.

“But…” _I don’t want to leave you._

“Please.” It’s not the end. Kay knows it to be so. “I need you to go.”

“Gentlemen. Now or never,” Phasma interrupts.

With that, Hux helps Kay to his feet. Hux meets him eye-to-eye, conveying his deep, ceaseless heartache with one look. So, this is goodbye.

Kay moves towards the door. “This way,” Kay grates, marching to the secret exit he used to sneak Hux out for alone time.

Phasma nods, narrowing her eyes curiously at him. Hux stumbles, slowed by his lack of practice. The door opens to Kay’s code, and Phasma starts towards the opening, wasting no time.

“Wait.” Kay stares at Hux, biting his tongue. There’s no time to talk. Hux must leave, and he must leave now. Kay regards Phasma and gestures to his head. “Kock me out. They have to think—”

Phasma’s blaster collides with his skull, sending him to the floor in a heap. Hux winces, hating the sight. Phasma tugs him out the door. He forces himself to concentrate on moving one foot in front of the other, choking back tears.

\--

When Kay comes to, he’s lying in his infirmary. His skull throbs, his spine aches, and fear creeps over him at the uncertainty of what happened while he was unconscious. He prays Hux made it out unscathed. He has no idea how Hux’s friend found him. But it was the shot they had to take. Now, Hux won’t have to fear persecution from the powers that control his brother’s actions as commander in chief of the Resistance.

Speak of the devil. Poe enters the infirmary, expression grim. “How are you feeling? They told me nothing’s broken,” he says, arms crossed pensively.

“Nothing feels broken. Just bruised.” Kay sighs, then clenches his jaw as he forces himself to sit up. “Was anyone hurt?”

“About a dozen injuries. Four dead.”

Kay pads over to fasten a fresh ice-patch to his head. “Damn. How did she make it planetside?” Kay asks.

“No one has a clue. I suspected she found a way to penetrate our shields, but we can’t be certain. What’s the last thing you remember?” Poe asks. “The damn cameras were blown out in the hall and outside. She also blew the databanks.”

Kay keeps his expression neutral. “Hux went with her willingly. They seemed to know each other,” he tells him. “She made me open up the back door with my code. I’m glad she didn’t feel the need to off me after that.”

“They knew each other?” Poe asks, like he hadn’t expected that.

“Yes. He said they were old friends. She said she was here to rescue him. I’m as confused as you are as to how she found him.” Kay analyzes the secrets pinching his brother’s brow. “What is it?”

“I guess it makes sense why she didn’t come here to kill him. What matters is that you’re alright, okay?”

Kay can lie expertly, but he cannot be lied to. “Poe…”

“We suspected that he was being hunted. The First Order knows he’s alive and they took out a bounty on him. Twenty mil.”

Kay sees red. A bounty? “When did you find this out?” he asks, tempering his rage. Had he sent Hux off to be slaughtered?

“They must have figured out that he was the one who was helping us engineer our cruisers. It didn’t seem relevant.”

“You should have told me.”

“Woah, man. I’m sorry. Hey, you said he made it out with a friend, right?”

Kay exhales, fixing his features into compliance. “Yes.” Fuck, he hopes so.

Poe mops a hand over his face. “Well, now that we know he’s got allies, we know that he’s not out their fending for himself. He’s someone else’s problem now. As far as I’m concerned, he made it clear he’s not to be trusted again. The only problem we have now is relocation.”

“Relocation?”

“We’re moving our headquarters now that we’re compromised. It’s time, anyway. Lando and I have been working with some allies to get the next base set up. We’re just about there; we’ll just have to stay on our cruisers until the new facility is operational.”

Kay nods, his face a disguise. The idea of leaving this base for another—following Poe to the next stage in his fight towards a more perfect republic—no longer entices him. There was a point in his life that he’d sworn his allegiance to Poe. Now, all he wants to do is retire. He wishes there was a way he could know Hux was safe, especially now that he has a twenty million credit bounty on his head.

Once Kay regains enough strength to make it to his quarters, he packs his meager belongings into a crate. Kay doesn’t know how he’s gonna spend his days when all he had for months was day after day of the very small world that he built around himself and Hux. With Hux gone, the emptiness and silence of his room is a deafening void. He closes his eyes and remembers how it felt to have Hux in his arms, wrapped around each other like lost loves reunited. He remembers how it felt to have Hux pushing into him with eager kisses, how it felt to have him bend pliably against him as Kay begged him for more with his tongue.

It was a mistake. Hux spent months with little company besides him, so who could blame Hux for his crush? Hux was emotionally vulnerable and not in his right mind, and Kay betrayed him for it. Kay’s gut simmers with self-loathing for how he misled Hux, and most ashamedly, how much Kay continues to want him more now that he’s gone.

Kay does not go to the new base. He doesn’t know how he can work like this, in a new place without Hux, pretending that things are well and normal. He instead decides to take some time off to spend it with his mother. She still lives in his childhood home back on Yavin 4. Thankfully, Poe has few objections. It will just be for a month or so. Besides, he hasn’t seen her in years, and the number of lies he’s inflicted on his brother threatens to make his knees give out.

Kay takes a single passenger shuttle and pilots himself out of the system. He needs to get away from the Resistance, from the lies, from the aching memory that Hux left behind.

\--

Phasma secures the cloak on her cruiser. These modifications don’t come cheap, but it’s well worth the investment. Beside her, Hux sits in the copilot seat, looking unusually pathetic.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Phasma says frankly.

“Thanks,” he mutters, shivering.

“Pants?”

For a moment, Hux cannot make sense of her question. Then, he realizes, that he is dressed only in his long-sleeve shirt, briefs, and his bare feet. He nods. “If you have any shoes, too, that would be lovely.”

Phasma returns with a pair of wool pants, fresh socks, and spare boots. He dresses sloppily, struggling to work his new leg into the fabric. He runs his hand down both thighs, thinking of Kay and the mistake he made in kissing him like that. He’s such a fool.

How could Kay make him leave like this? If he cared about him, wanted to be with him, wouldn’t he beg him to stay?

“How did you find me?” Hux asks. He’s miserable, irritated. “Come to think of it, aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I am dead. Well, to the First Order. After Ren took over as Supreme Leader, I knew that he would run the organization into the ground. There was no place for me there. Instead of sticking around to fight his battles, I deserted.” Phasma waves at her eye patch. “Lost my eye thanks to that defector, FN-2187.”

“Finn,” Hux corrects her without thinking, earning him a perplexed glare.

“Whatever…” Phasma unholsters her blaster and sets it on the dashboard to clean later. “I found you based off the word of one of my weapons dealers. The First Order knows you’re alive, and that you evaded execution and are now working for the Resistance. They’ll stop at nothing to hunt you down. You’ve got a twenty million credit bounty on your head.”

“Twenty _million?”_ Hux scoffs. That’s obscene! “How? How do they know I’m still alive?”

“Don’t know, but they knew. So, the Guild started looking for you. You’re lucky I was the member that found you first, and that I knew who to ask and where to look and what to look for based on your premortem injuries. Well, allegedly premortem.” Phasma points with her other blaster to Hux’s knee. “The fellow that the Dameron brother bought your leg from. He’s one of my contacts, of many. We had an agreement that the location of any Resistance affiliate will go directly to me. I’ve got a bit of a revenge streak,” she says, pointing to here eyepatch. She paid him handsomely for the information and to ensure the cargo could be tracked.

It’s an embarrassing story, really, how he lost his leg from diving into an infested trash compactor. He’s gone from hating what happened to him because of how it turned him into an invalid, to treasuring his newfound crippled form because it brought him closer to Kay. Now, he aches with the loss of Kay, hurt akin to the loss of his leg. Kay wanted him to have this leg so badly that its purchase was the very force that has now ripped them apart.

“Did they torture you?” Phasma asks directly.

“No, never. They treated me well.” _He took care of me._ “They made me feel quite comfortable.” _He made me feel like I was worth something._

“That man. He appeared to be your ally.”

Hux flinches, overcome with a fresh wave of grief. “Kay. He’s my…friend,” he says. “He was the one who smuggled in this leg when he found out that his brother, Poe Dameron, was not going to supply me with one.” He’d much rather be legless than be here. But what choice does he have now?

“He appeared to care a great deal about you,” she hums, taking apart her blaster.

“He told me to leave with you.”

Phasma doesn’t say anything in response to that. Hux stares out at the striping stars, wondering what will become of him now.

“Where are we going?” Hux asks wearily, sick to his stomach.

“The farthest of the Unknown Regions. You’ll be safe there. We should be there in a couple of weeks.”

Hux nods, throat thick with unshed tears.

What if he never sees Kay again?

\--

Yavin 4 is hotter, wetter, and brighter than Kay remembers. He’s spent so many years with the Resistance camp at his brother’s side. He hasn’t seen his mother or birthfather in years. Now is an ideal time to reconnect to get his mind off certain people and certain events.

His mother, Yesmi Goron, welcomes him with open arms. “You look old,” she smirks, taking her son’s face in her hands. She has the hands of a healer, cool and secure on his withered face.

“I’m glad to see you.”

That night, Kay offers to cook his mother dinner. She tells him that’s nonsense; they can cook together. Over the countertop, Kay expertly slices the vegetables, as his mother is strictly vegetarian.

“What kept you away so long?” she asks, tending to the spice rack.

“Work. Poe. Mostly Poe.”

“Hm. You both are as thick as thieves. Or just thieves.”

“Ouch.” His mother forgave him for those long years spent pillaging the galaxy with the spice runners, but she never forgot.

“Well, it’s accurate.” Yesmi laughs at her son’s grim expression. “I’m only teasing. You’ve always been so serious.”

“Things have always been serious.”

She scoffs. “Just because you make it so. You overthink things, and never let yourself be happy.”

Heartache sobers him. She’s right, of course. He pushes thoughts of Hux away.

“Kay.” Yesmi stills her working hands. “Go get some rest.” A pause. “I invited your father for dinner, so you’ll need it.”

Kay sees his birthfather for the first time in years, greeting him with a heavy embrace. That night, they break bread and exchange stories of their separate lives.

“Your mother is actually coming to my neck of the woods to help teach our locals how to operate their recent purchase of medical droids.”

“Oh, wow. This is news to me,” says Kay.

“I didn’t want you to think that I was eager to leave as soon as you got here. I’ll only be gone for a couple months, Kay.”

“Please, don’t fret. I know you have an important role here. I didn’t want to intrude on your plans.”

Yesmi places a warm palm over his hand. “You could never intrude.”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to stay a while. Not permanently, of course. I just need some time away from everything.”

Kes meets Kay’s eye. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Well, no. We had a security threat and had to uproot. Poe’s got plenty of resources to do move headquarters, so he gave me an extended leave of absence.”

“I’m glad. You deserve it,” Kes tells him. “Is he…?”

“Poe’s good. Under tremendous pressure, but he’s thriving. Just like you both had back in the day.” Poe is born and bred Rebellion.

His parents don’t press. “Take all the time you need. I should be back right when the wet season ends,” Yesmi says. “You’ll always have a home, here.” She kisses him on the cheek and Kay’s mind drifts to fun, sad childhood memories.

Later in the week, Kay offers to help on several home improvement projects his mother has planned to start herself. He readies his supplies: patches for the rust-eaten roof and wall panels, ammonia for the stained floorboards, and paint for the chipped lanai. When she finally leaves him for her planned trip, he is left alone with nothing but the patter of rain and the muted noises of his tinkering.

\--

“I hope he died screaming. I hope he died choking on his own blood.”

“Well, I’d settle for him dying with a sad look on his face.” Hux tosses back another shot, trying desperately to enjoy this conjoined fantasy with Phasma about Kylo Ren’s death.

“It hardly matters,” she says. “Because we are the victors. We not only outsmarted the First Order, but we outlived that animal.”

The spaceship hums around them, powering through hyperspace. “You and I have survived a great deal.”

“Indeed.” The First Order chewed them up and spat them out. Now, freedom is only a few more days in hyperspace. “I never imagined that you’d last that long while prisoner. Your tolerance for pain is quite low.”

For a beat, Hux doesn’t have a clue to what she’s talking about. “Oh. Well, thanks to you, I’m free,” he says, trying to sound grateful but feeling anything but.

“You never told me how you ended up there.”

“I spied for them, so I knew where to find them. After Pryde’s botched attempt on my life, they were the only place on my map, so to speak.”

“You appear well taken care of. They even replaced your leg.”

“Hey, I lost that leg when I got there,” he counters, taking another sip of his drink.

“Shoddy medics had to amputate the whole thing?”

“He did it to save my life.”

At that slip up, Phasma leans back and narrows her eyes as if attempting to read the fine print on Hux’s forehead. “That man?”

Hux nods. “Same…man.”

“He helped you escape.”

So he did. “Guess he figured it was time that I was someone else’s problem.”

“No…that’s not it. He wanted to help you.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. Thoughts of Kay are too painful to bear. “If you think so.”

“The leg that he purchased was not through typical means. And Resistancemen don’t make it a habit of letting First Order ex-generals slip through their fingers.”

“Get to the point,” he snaps.

“He made it clear that his alliance was with you.”

Hux glares at the table. “No. That’s not what he did.”

Phasma clicks her tongue. “He seemed to care a great deal about you. And now that I think of it, you leapt to protect him from me—”

“What does it matter? We’re going far, far away from him. He wanted me to leave, so I left.” Hux stands and turns to scrutinize the shimmering blue of hyperspace through the pilot’s windows. “Why are we talking about this?” he hisses, palms itching to take control of the ship and run back to Kay and beg him to allow him to stay.

“See. This is what I don’t understand. Why is it that when I rescue, you act like I’m the one that took you captive?”

“I didn’t _ask_ to be rescued!” He tempers his heartache, stamping it to embers. “I was safe and cared for.” _I had him. I was happy._

To Hux’s horror, Phasma laughs and laughs, head thrown back.

“What the hell is so funny?” he sneers.

“I’m sorry. This is just…is ironic even the right word?” Phasma holds up a hand, as if to amend herself. “This is all kind of sweet? You were sleeping with him, weren’t you? Is that why you didn’t have any pants?”

“Stop being awful,” he says primly, blushing in humiliation.

She doesn’t relent. “There will be plenty of men in the Unknown Regions who would be happy to sink their teeth in you.”

“I don’t want _plenty of men,_ ” he snaps, beyond embarrassed. He just wants one.

Phasma sobers, staring at him as if he were an unreadable script. “You don’t want to be here.”

“Obviously,” he says, not for the first time surrendering to his heart. “But he told me to go, so I went. He thought it best that I was no longer in his care.”

The faint blue-white flicker of hyperspace paints Phasma’s face, highlighting the cool metal of her eyepatch. Hux wishes he were like Kay, who can read people so effortlessly. She must think he’s pitiful for longing to return to Resistance captivity.

“So, if it were possible, you’d want to be with him?” she asks.

“It’s not remotely possible, no thanks to you.” It’s not really fair that he blame her for his misery, but regardless, she doesn’t appear to be irked.

“But if you could? Would you fight for it?”

Hux scowls, aching with self-loathing and grief. Would he? He’s never felt like this towards anyone before. He knows for a fact that he and Kay are meant to meet again. They’re meant to be together.

He cradles his face in his hands. If he pictures what it’s like to be free, he doesn’t see the vast possibilities of the Unknown Regions, nor the mask of an alias. He sees one perfect, imperfect man. Hell, if this isn’t love, then he’s officially gone mad.

Phasma pulls them from hyperspace. The ship hums quietly to a standstill.

“What are you doing?” Hux demands.

“Going back.”

Hux heart flutters. He’s joyous. “You can’t…”

“I can and I will.”

“Why? Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because you are pathetic when you yearn,” she scoffs, then softens. “One of us deserves to be happy.”

Their journey back to the Resistance base brings them closer as former comrades. Hux truly sees Phasma as family, though he’d never tell her that.

“It’s as I suspected. They’ve fled the base. No prominent lifeforms, though I’d have to get closer to be sure. There aren’t any shield generators in operation, which is a dead giveaway,” she tells him.

It makes sense, Hux thinks, that the Resistance would uproot after such a harrowing invasion of their base. Now, Kay is lost to him, and his hopes are hanging on by a thread.

“Our mutual friend has some very limited information about your man. If we can find someone he knows and is in contact with, you may be able to get them to send him a message.”

“That’s a longshot.”

“We’ve made plenty of them. Let’s see what we’re working with here.” Phasma pulls up a datapad. “He’s lived on three planets. The most recent was Hosnian Prime, so we can strike that one off the list.”

Hux’s heart pounds against an irrational spike of fear that somehow, there exists a possibility that Kay could have been lost to him before they ever met.

“There’s Kijimi, but my source assures me that he only lived there for a short while as a servant for a gang, so I doubt he’s in contact with anyone there,” she continues.

“Yavin 4. The merchant city of Yavis. That’s where he’s from, and that’s were his mother still lives,” Hux informs her. He remembered everything Kay chose to share with him and although he hadn’t spent much time on the details of his homeworld, Hux recalls that Kay is still in contact with his mother.

Hux flicks his eyes over to the datapad, ogling the youthful image of Kay that she has pulled up. It appears to be an official Republic photograph. Kay looks very handsome and youthful in his nurse uniform. He tries to imagine what he’d say to him and can only come up with the simplest of truths. They belong together, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.

\--

Kay lies awake on his childhood bed, staring at the stained ceiling. He makes a mental note of replacing the roof panels before his mother comes home in a few weeks. A half hour later, he flinches at the chirp of his alarm.

Today, he’s spending the morning finishing his weatherproofing of his mother’s porch. The mindlessness of the task grounds him, pulls him away from the cause of his sleepless nights. When his mind cannot drift, he fixates on how Hux’s friend Phasma most likely found them because of his careless trip and purchase of the prosthesis. He preoccupies on his betrayal against Poe and their Resistance comrades who paid the price for his choices. But mostly, he thinks of Hux, and the fact that his betrayal of his brother and the subsequent collateral damage pales in comparison to the staggering dread of not knowing if Hux is safe.

He indulges in a fond memory from weeks ago, one framed by Hux’s clever eyes and prudish judgements. He scrapes his tool against the floor panels, baring the metal with each squeal of the blade.

_“So, it was just you and your brother?” Hux asks, leaning comfortably in the speeder beneath the stars._

_“Yes, mostly. We spent a lot of time together once we met. Poe and I each lost a parent around the same time, so it wasn’t a surprise that we bonded.”_

_Hux hums, folding his arms cutely. Kay slouches, legs spread, trying not to look too closely at his passenger. He must be careful with Hux. They’re friends, friendlier as the days pass, but he has no desire to overstep the critical boundaries between doctor and patient. Hux has had a great many unbalanced relationships in his life, and Kay is remiss to contribute to that._

_“I’m sorry about your parents,” Hux tells him, and Kay gets the feeling that is not a familiar brand of empathy coming from the man. It’s sincere, nonetheless. Kay knows how to read people, and all the times he tried to read Hux, he was captivated by the complexities behind every muscle, every word._

_“What about your family? You spoke of your father, once,” Kay asks. He feels like they’re at a good place to talk about this._

_Hux looks away. “I never met my mother. Well, my birth mother. I was mainly raised by my father. If you could call it that.” Many years of pain are behind his confession, but this type of pain is best ameliorated with words. “I sometimes wish that I had a brother or sister. I always liked little children.”_

_Kay enjoys these times, where Hux shares parts of himself and Kay absorbs every piece. “You want children?”_

_“I never said that,” Hux laughs._

_“I can see it now. You and a little Huxling.”_

_“That would be a tragedy. For the child.”_

_“You really would look adorable with a baby on your hip.”_

_“Now you’re just embarrassing yourself,” Hux scoffs, while smirking._

_Kay snickers, but he swears Hux is blushing._

Kay remembers that was one of the first times he ached to hold Hux in his arms and kiss him breathless. He was angry with himself for those invasive thoughts then. Now, he’s even more furious with himself because he knows what Hux feels like against him and won’t be allowed such bliss again.

The floor panel screeches in protest at Kay’s furious ministrations. Frustrated, he shucks his tool to the side, taking his face in his hands.

Footsteps pull him from his wallowing. He looks up and the floor falls from beneath him.

Hux stands there, mirroring the palpable shock between them.


	10. Whole

Hux has no time to properly react to Kay being here. Kay seals the door behind them and Hux’s eyes are glued to him. After weeks apart, finally seeing Kay again so unexpectedly, renders him mute.

“Are you alright?” Kay asks, hushed as if they’re being surveilled.

When Hux doesn’t respond, Kay gets in his space. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Hux flinches at Kay’s earnestness. “I was trying to find your mother. I thought that was the only way that I could get in contact with you after the Resistance abandoned Ajan Kloss. You told me about your homeworld, once. I remembered your mother’s name. It wasn’t difficult to find where she lived with Phasma’s resources.” He sinks against the doorframe, spine stiff as if Kay were shoving him forcefully into it.

Because Kay is an expert in all things Hux, he immediately senses Hux’s alarm and backs-off. He exhales into one fist. “And you’re alright?” he repeats.

“I’m fine,” Hux breathes. “Phasma kept me safe. She’s nearby.”

Kay looks at him, up and down in disbelief. His heart is pounding at the sight of him, and he forces himself to look away. “How is the leg?”

Hux laughs. He hasn’t thought about his damned leg in days. “It’s perfectly operational.” He’s vibrating with nerves. “Why aren’t you with the others? You weren’t fired, were you?”

“No, nothing like that. I asked Poe if I could go back home for a couple months.” Kay’s hands shake, so he tucks them into fists. “Needed to get my mind off of things.” _I needed to be somewhere else because my world was so much smaller without you in it._

“I see.” Hux swallows, looking away. He takes in the small living space. It’s compact, neat, and tinged with age. There are colorful fixtures on the walls and along what he can see of the kitchen space.

“Why did you come here?” Kay asks, bewildered. “You were supposed to stay under the radar. I can’t guarantee your safety here.”

“I needed to get a message to you,” Hux says defensively. He can’t help the hurt from Kay’s apparent contempt for his decision, but his truth needs to be heard.

“What was so important that you risked capture, or worse?”

“What was so important?” he parrots, incredulous. Can’t Kay see? They’re supposed to be together. Humiliated, Hux turns for the doorknob. “I had no idea you could be such a—”

Kay stops him with a firm hand on the door. “Please. Don’t.”

“You’re clearly angry that I’m here, so just let me go.”

“Please just…” Kay composes himself. “I’m not angry that you’re here. I just don’t understand why you would do this. You were free and now you’ve put yourself at risk.”

“I wasn’t free. I was lost.”

“Lost?”

Hux tries so hard to keep his eyes level with Kay’s own. “I’ve been lost for a while now. Before I met you.”

Kay clenches his jaw. He opens his mouth to speak but Hux beats him to it.

“I came here because I remembered where you told me you grew up. I remembered every bit about where you lived and who your mother is, and because this was the one tangible lead that could possibly bring me back to you, I came here. Before we met, I hadn’t known what loneliness was. It wasn’t until you told me to leave that I realized I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

“Hux…”

“I don’t have any idea what’s gonna happen next, and I know that I’ve got a target on my back. But I don’t care about being free or being alive unless I’m with you. I want to be with you.”

Kay closes his eyes, choosing his words carefully. “I know that you think you feel this way because of how things progressed between us—”

“I know what I feel,” Hux snaps.

“And you know that I told you why we can’t do this.”

“And I’m telling _you_ that your rationale is incredibly patronizing.”

“You’re my patient,” Kay tries, but he’s growing weaker by the second.

“I’m not your patient anymore, and I’m not a fucking child. When I’m with you, I feel—” He cuts himself off, and takes Kay’s hand in his own. He brings his hand to rest flat on his chest, as if the hand-to-chest connection could tell Kay everything he cannot put into words for himself. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he begs.

Kay regards him with immense grief. “What I feel is irrelevant.”

“I don’t accept that.” Hux shakes his head, determined. “I see you, remember?”

Kay nods shallowly, heart in his throat. All these tumultuous feelings, these wrong, carnal yearnings. He shouldn’t be indulging in any of this. But he can’t pull himself from Hux’s orbit any more than he could when he first pulled him from that First Order escape pod.

“I know who you are, and you know who I am. You saw my bones,” Hux laments as Kay lurks closer, his hand warm and strong on his chest.

“Then you know why I can’t betray your trust like this,” Kay implores. “I won’t be that man to you. You deserve far better than that.”

Hurt pangs deeply within Hux at Kay’s well-meaning vows. Regardless of his intention, he doesn’t want to hear them. “What I deserve is to not be a slave to the terrible memories of my childhood. I don’t want to be repulsive anymore because of what sick, monstrous old men did to me before I was young enough to protect myself,” Hux grates, eyes shining. “And I don’t need you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do because of it.”

Kay wilts, bringing his hand up from Hux’s chest to cradle his skull. Hux is warm and soft. He needs to breathe him in. What restraint he has left is quickly tapping out. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Hux complains, though it comes out like a breath. Kay is close now. He feels his warmth.

“Then let me apologize for telling you to leave,” he confesses. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”

“Why did you?”

“I was afraid.” Kay knew that he took a risk by going against Poe’s orders and installing his prosthesis, and he didn’t want Hux to be punished for his actions. He knew that Hux may never be released, and Phasma’s jailbreak was a window of opportunity he had to take. But above all, he knows his cowardice stems from how he truly feels. 

“Afraid.”

Kay exhales shakily, taking in Hux’s characteristic, cunning brilliance, his fierce devotion, his boundless sins against the galaxy, and every imperfection in between. “I feared that I had fallen in love with you.”

Hux gapes at him, brow pinched. He whimpers when Kay closes the space between them to kiss him reverently. Kay presses against him, angling and pulling him in deeper. His fists claw at Kay’s chest, taking his tongue against his own.

It’s—perfection. Being with Kay, kissing him, feeling him inside and out, is like nothing he’s ever experienced. Elation matches his eagerness, and he’s kept tethered by his uncertainty for where they go next.

His doubts evaporate when Kay pulls back to catch his breath, and he consumes Kay’s hot gaze. Emboldened, Hux teethes at Kay’s lip, which bring Kay to sink against him, effectively pinning him to the door.

A victim to his own needs, Kay impulsively grinds their hips together. When he realizes what he’s done, he stills and moves back as he feels himself start to harden.

Hux’s eyes widen at the unfamiliar contact. He lurches forward, seeking the foreign, maddening heat of Kay against him. Now that he’s been given permission, Kay repeats the motion, absorbing the shocked pleasure brightening Hux’s features as he begins to harden as well.

“Kay,” Hux whines. “Kay…”

Kay slips his thigh in between Hux’s, and he revels in the shallow gasps the motion earns him. He tries and fails to restrain himself as he starts making marks with his lips and tongue down Hux’s pliant neck.

Hux yelps, overwhelmed. In response, Kay stills and takes Hux’s skull in his hands.

“Too much?” Kay asks, breathing against his lips.

“Only in the best way.” Hux shivers, bringing his hands to Kay’s sturdy waist. He’s so strong and solid and Hux just wants to take a bite out of him. Kay kisses him again, deep and worshipful. When Kay pulls back to gauge his reaction—something he seems to make a habit of—Hux finds the nerve to voice what he wants. “I want to have sex.”

He expects Kay to laugh at his inelegant declaration. Or worse, like ask him _are you sure?_ with dark, pitying eyes. Instead, Kay kisses him once more, and says simply, “So do I.”

Hux gasps, not quite believing this is happening. “I’ve never been with—” He swallows, and Kay takes him by the hand and leads him farther into the warm abode. “Anyone.”

“That’s alright,” Kay replies. He leads them to his small childhood bedroom, gently closing the door behind them.

Hux teethes his lip. “You picked a terrible time to start speaking as little as possible,” he says, now nervous because they’re in a bedroom with a bed, and they’re going to _have sex_ on it.

Kay replies with a soft kiss to Hux’s red lips. “Sorry. I just…don’t want to say the wrong thing. Not to you.”

“No need to walk on eggshells. Not after all we’ve shared.” Hux has never wanted him more. He loves that Kay is just a hair shorter than him, while being nearly a hundred and fifty percent his body mass. He loves that Kay is being gentle, yet firm, while teaching him so many unknown truths about himself.

“Then why don’t I tell you what I’m thinking,” Kay says instead. He captures Hux’s wide-eyed gaze. “I’m thinking about things that I’ve thought about before. Things I wanted to do to you for a while now. Like this,” he says, bringing a palm between Hux’s legs.

Hux gasps, mouth agape. Kay dives in tongue first, silencing him.

Kay withdraws with a filthy pop. “And I thought about getting you off and the faces you’d make,” and gods, the faces and the noises Hux makes are unreal. “I just want you to feel good. Will you allow me?” he asks, because he can’t help it.

Luckily, Hux can’t form a proper counter to Kay’s earnest request. Kay peels off his paint-spotted tee shirt to reveal his healthily muscled chest and abdomen. With shaky hands, Hux tries for his own shirt with trembling hands and with help from Kay, he removes it. Kay’s broad hands find Hux’s thin waist and brings their skin together.

Hux breathes against him, hands exploring the newfound territory. Kay isn’t overly muscular, but he is plenty thick, up and down. Hux’s fingers trace his flank, then settle on his hip. “You’re very well built,” Hux admits, swallowing.

“Thanks to carrying you around.”

Hux’s chest aches with longing. It’s nonsense because Kay is here, in his arms. He wants—he doesn’t quite know what he wants. All he knows is that he wants Kay, body and soul. “I really missed you.”

Kay responds by pulling Hux to the edge of his small bed. It’s barely big enough for one grown man, so adding another makes it all but impossible for any other position than them on top of one another. Kay guides Hux to his recline against the flat pillow, caging him in with his arms. Hux beneath him is maddening, his eyes wide and questioning. Hux brings his hand to Kay’s chest to explore. At the touch, Kay dips to tongue deep past Hux’s red lips.

Pulling back, Kay consumes Hux’s hazy, reddened expression. “Gorgeous,” he exhales.

Instinctively, Hux spreads his legs apart to make more room for all that Kay has to offer him. He’s the mute one now, overwhelmed by Kay’s command and control. Kay pulls a startled whimper from him when he grinds down with his hips. He does it again, and again, and again until Hux is panting against him, fine red hair curling against his forehead.

“ _Kay_.”

“I’ve got you,” Kay vows, kissing down his neck and to the bones of his chest. He breathes over Hux’s soft pectoral and when Hux brings an eager palm to the back of Kay’s neck, he brings his lips against his nipple.

Hux moans like a switch has been flipped. Everything is hot as Kay moves from one side of his chest to the other, summoning these insane, unforgettable feelings up and down his body. Kay startles him by shuffling low, mouthing at Hux’s quivering belly.

“Oh…” Hux whines, wide-eyed with shock as Kay’s mouth hovers over the thick, restricting fabric of his hard cock. Kay looks up at him hotly, a question in his eyes.

“Please,” Hux nods, heart hammering in his chest. Bewildered, Hux lifts his hips up as Kay tugs his pants free. Nerves bring his heartrate to wild heights, but he trusts this man more than anyone. He wants this. When Kay eases him from his underwear, his cheeks redden in shame. But Kay doesn’t meet his shame. Looking down at him is a man with an ache to devour.

Swiftly, Kay drops to kiss him once more. Hux locks him in with his thin fingers in his hair, reveling in the immaculate mess he’s made if it. Then, Kay is down, and his cock is taken into Kay’s calloused fist, then his soft, wet mouth.

Hux quakes, unsure of what to do with a single part of his body. How could anything feel like this? Hux ogles Kay’s slow, diligent ministrations, every motion more aggravatingly sensual than the last.

Kay swallows him, a bit inexpertly from his lack of practice as of late—it’s nothing like riding a speeder-bike, no matter what people say. He wants Hux to be comfortable, to feel free, to feel _good_. He focuses on clearing his teeth and brings a hand to fondle his sac. Hux’s thighs constrict around his skull, suctioning his ears so that the perfect little noises Hux is making mute to muffles.

Approaching completion, Hux covers his face with his arm. Kay choses that moment to exercise every trick he knows—something with wild, incessant tongue—and Hux moves his arm to gape down at his tormentor. The image of Kay like this will be forever seared into his memories: absolutely debauched, sucking the life out of him in the best way imaginable.

Hux’s body gives no warning when he begins to come, and to his horror, he messes Kay’s cheek with his filth. The image sends him reeling, combined with Kay’s mouth and throat capturing him once more for the finale. Hux chokes, back arching deliciously to chase the sensation.

Kay pulls away to catch his breath as Hux squirms and softens against the mattress. He sits up and slides to the edge, taking Hux’s hand briefly in his own when he stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, drinking Hux in with his heated gaze. Of course, he’s hilariously hard, but pays his needs no mind.

Hux nods, smiling softly. He hears Kay in the refresher: sink running, toothbrush brushing. He commits the precious music to his memories, feeling at home.

Home. This is Kay’s mother’s house. He looks around the bedroom, at the walls faded with time. Posters of artwork, shelves of books, neatly folded linens on a small desk awaiting storage. This is Kay’s childhood home and he’s lying in his childhood bed, vibrating from his first illicit affair. Hux tugs the wrinkled sheet over his nude body, bringing it to his face. He inhales, eyes slipping closed from the comfortable, uniquely Kay scent.

He wants this. For now, it’s his.

Kay returns from his refresher and Hux takes him in from head to toe. Deep golden skin, healthily muscled, broad in all the right places—and his genitals are most definitely at attention from beneath his trousers. Hux stares, unabashed.

Kay undoes his work pants, adding them to the mess on the floor. He joins Hux under the sheet, on his side because of the lack of room.

“Where’s your mother?” Hux asks, breathing him in.

“She’s traveling for work.”

“So, you’re fixing things up while she’s away?”

“Kind of. I don’t think she really needs the help, but she knows I like to feel useful.”

Hux smiles, inching close to kiss him. He tastes of clean, sharp mint. “You’re plenty useful to me,” he says lecherously.

“I’m happy to be,” Kay tells him, speaking from his heart.

At Kay’s sincerity, Hux presses against him to kiss him once more, his elbow bracketing him tightly around his neck. The contact brings Kay’s groin into his. He gasps, nuzzling Kay’s cheekbone.

“You’re hard,” Hux whispers.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Hux tongues into his hot mouth. “I’m not worried,” he says, mischievous. Then, their kisses deepen and Hux has the courage to tip his prosthetic thigh in between his, shivering when Kay moans into his mouth.

Kay relishes in the friction at first but the chafe of his briefs become irritating. From under the sheet, Kay tugs them down and kicks them off his ankles. Hux pulls him close to feel him entirely skin to skin, his erection pressing against his hip and his own spent, flaccid and over-sensitive self.

“Can I touch you?” Hux whines, over stimulated but craving more.

Kay nods, taking him by the wrist to guide him to his target. When Hux gets a grip on him, he squeezes gently, unfamiliar and hypnotized by his heat, his mass. Of course, Kay is _huge_ , though he doesn’t have much experience with many cocks to know if his metric is accurate.

“Like this?” Hux asks, palming his tip.

“Lemme get something to ease it along, first,” Kay groans, trying to remember if he has any lube. Kay reaches over Hux for his backpack and finds his bottle of face lotion. This will do. He takes a glob and brings it to the palm of Hux’s hand, uncaring how cold the cream is.

Through hot breaths, Kay instructs Hux how to bend his elbow, how to squeeze. It’s not difficult for either of them to get into it, and soon Kay is groaning against him and seeking out his mouth for more obscene kisses.

Shortly, Hux’s shoulder begins to cramp. But he refuses to stop, since Kay’s responses are absurdly intoxicating. Hux revels in how Kay’s just a bit rougher now that he’s close, how Kay’s hot mouth wanders to his neck, his thumb finding Hux’s fat, red bottom lip. Brazenly, Hux takes Kay’s thumb in between his lips, sucking the salt from the pad of skin.

Kay’s attention is pulled from Hux’s neck to Hux’s sucking lips. In awe, he pushes his finger deeper into Hux’s mouth, and the sight of Hux hollowing his cheeks around the intrusion makes him finally come.

Hux gapes at the foreign sensation of wet, sticky filth against his thigh, tugging Kay enthusiastically to completion. Kay pulls his thumb from Hux’s lips, pasting their foreheads together, quaking gently against him.

Hux pulls his hand away and balls it into a fist to not ruin Kay’s bed further. “Was that alright?”

“You’re perfect,” he groans. So, so perfect.

They pad to the shower, which is also cramped. But they don’t care. It’s just another excuse to cling to one another, to kiss until it starts to hurt.

Kay soaps Hux’s back, his thighs and buttocks, revering every motion. Hux returns the favor and spares no remorse for constantly looking him from back to front, consuming every inch of him having been starved of this for a lifetime.

Kay lends him shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. Hux dresses, swimming pleasantly in the fabric. Kay sits beside him on the bed. Now that passions have cooled, reality must be revisited.

“Don’t make me leave,” Hux blurts, jaw clenched.

With a tender hand, Kay brushes the damp red hair out of Hux’s eyes. There’s no more running from how he feels. “I couldn’t bear it if you did.”

Hux snakes his thin arms around Kay’s neck to nuzzle into the side of his skull. Hux’s throat grows sore from unshed tears. He melts as Kay tugs him close around his waist, tight and unyielding.

Kay kisses his hairline, eyes slipping shut.

That night, as Kay puts the floor of his bedroom back in order, Hux sends a message to Phasma: _I’m with him now. Thank you for everything._ She replies: _You know where to find me. Best of luck with your heart, General._

\--

The morning greets Hux with a warm, muscled hook around his waist. Hux exhales, wriggling against Kay’s solidness. His nose prods comfortably in Hux’s disheveled hair, his mouth finding his neck as he wakes, and his arm tightening around his thin stomach. Bliss.

“Good morning,” Kay huffs in his ear, gravelly from sleep.

“It is,” Hux smiles, so in love with this man. He scoots back, seeking more of him. He’s rewarded with the novel feeling of Kay’s thickened cock. Kay’s in nothing but his briefs, compared to Hux’s layers of sleep clothes. “And for you, too, it appears.”

“I can’t get enough of you,” Kay breathes hotly into his ear. Hux swallows, blood rushing to his cock as Kay teases him. He shivers as Kay’s cool palms slip under his loose shirt on a quest for his chest where Hux is extremely sensitive.

“Oh,” Hux squeaks, melting against him. Kay’s tongue finds his ear, and Hux trembles in his arms. “Don’t stop.”

Hux feels Kay’s hands claw for his hips, tugging his shorts to his knees and freeing his swelling cock. Ready with lotion, Kay takes Hux’s firm girth into his fist.

Slowly, Kay tugs Hux off, indulgently sampling the immaculate skin of his neck and shoulder as Hux sinks against him. Hux rakes a hand in Kay’s hair, moans wetting the pillow. He grinds backwards into Kay’s length, obsessing over how it feels dragging against the backs of his thighs, the jut of his ass. He wants to touch Kay, tug him off just as he’s doing to him, pleasuring him perfectly and making his kneecaps pinch together as he writhes from his touch.

Kay’s cock traces just right along the crack of his ass, an unclaimed part of his body. Hux gapes, mouth wide and tasting linen. He searches for the sensation again, encouraged by Kay’s thrusting hips.

“Fuck,” Hux groans.

“You like that?” Kay huffs, attempting to be genuine but it just comes out as dirty. Hux whines and nods, muted by the multitude of sensations assailing him from around and within. Kay lubricates himself with some of the lotion on his hand, leaving Hux’s cock to throb against his trembling stomach. Kay pulls him back by the hips to drag his now slippery length in the cleft of his ass.

Hux nearly sobs, arching his back. “Oh, I’ll do anything,” he gasps, too-high pitched and desperate for everything Kay gifts him.

Kay settles Hux carefully against him. “Let’s take it slow, okay?” he murmurs, and Hux nods jitterily. “Listen to me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Hux says through his teeth. Of course, he can.

Kay instructs Hux to close his thighs together tightly, and Hux complies, eager for more. Kay places a sticky palm against Hux’s pale thigh, pressing down. He guides himself through the tight seal of Hux’s thighs, pulling Hux back and against him with gentle thrusts. His mouth finds Hux’s red-tipped ear. “Touch yourself.”

Kay’s instructions strike him like lightening. Hux tugs himself into his fist, lost from the sensation of Kay pulling him back and driving his cock against him. Hux looks down at Kay’s cock prodding into him, through him. Hux groans at the sight as Kay spots his thighs with bits of come. Hux fists himself and is lost to everything as Kay uses him for his pleasure.

When Kay comes, he pelts Hux’s thighs and soils the sheet in front of him and Hux follows him to completion. Hux drags his free hand through the mess Kay made of his thighs and rubs it into his skin.

\--

Hux stares adoringly at Kay’s freshly scrubbed back as he fixes them breakfast. He’s still high from their tryst, how it felt to have Kay claim him like that. Already, he wants more. He can’t stop thinking about Kay’s cock stuffing him. It will hurt, but he knows Kay would be gentle with him.

“How do you like your eggs?” Kay calls over his shoulder.

“Hard.”

Kay smirks. “What?”

“Scrambled is fine,” Hux hums, drawing his legs into his chair. Once his mind’s gone to these filthy places, there’s nothing he can do besides live through his fantasies. He wants Kay’s cock so badly, against him, inside his ass, deep in his throat. He flushes, willing away the heat.

Kay starts the eggs, blending the yolks with his spatula. He peeks behind over at Hux, who is staring forlornly at the floor. “Something on your mind?”

“It can wait.”

“I’m sure it can. Wanna tell me anyway?”

“Well. All I want right now is to jump you, and we must eat. So yes, it must wait.”

Kay leers heatedly, but with mirth in his eyes. “Hey. This is our first meal together that wasn’t prepared by the Resistance cafeteria. Show some respect.”

Hux grins, so happy. “I respect it plenty. Just hurry the fuck up.”

Laughter splits Kay’s handsome face. Hux loves when he laughs and smiles unrestrainedly. But he’d rather lick him instead.

Eggs with toast and jam adorn Hux’s table setting. Kay joins him with an identical plate. It’s not very much food, but Hux doesn’t complain.

“Thank you,” Hux hums, digging in.

“I was gonna go to the store today,” Kay informs him. “Will you be alright while I make a quick stop? I don’t have much in the way of lunch or dinner.”

“As far as cells go, this one is nice.” Hux knows Kay doesn’t want him to be seen in public. There are eyes and ears all around since the First Order caught wind of Hux’s status within the Resistance.

They finish their meal, but not without Hux bumping their feet together under the table.

“How’s the leg?”

“You already asked me that,” Hux replies.

“Humor me.”

Hux sighs, patting his knee. “It used to get stiff the first week, but I think the bone has fused enough to it that it’s like new. It’s perfect, really.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Kay takes Hux’s thigh in his wide palm. Unhelpfully, Hux’s body begins to ache for more of his touch.

“Thanks to you,” Hux says. “You’ve done so much for me.” More than he could ever truly know.

Kay cleans his plate, smirking with mustached lips. “I’m the asshole that took your leg in the first place, remember?”

“I didn’t think so at the time, but that amputation was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He would gladly surrender both legs if it meant he could have met Kay.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same thing.”

Hux’s stomach flips. Everything about this feels surreal. He takes Kay’s hand in his own.

Kay stands up and pulls Hux close, holds him as if they were falling into a slow dance. He kisses Hux sweetly, hands on his hips. Hux shivers and takes Kay by his shoulders to squeeze the muscle there.

“You’re very good at this,” Hux breathes.

“Hm?”

“Being…tender,” Hux explains.

Kay smiles handsomely and Hux adores the way he looks when he smiles, especially as close as they are. “I wasn’t aware that was a skill I had in my portfolio.” Hux rolls his eyes but is clearly charmed. “It’s easy with you,” he says simply.

Hux brackets both of his hands against Kay’s face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones as if he were forming him out of clay. Not for the first time, Hux wonders if the galaxy formed Kay just for him. In a way, he doesn’t believe he had been fully realized until he met Kay. He swallows, studying the patches of hair along Kay’s jaw. He’s so, so in love.

“Do you have scissors?” Hux says instead. “I’m in need of a trim.”

“I can get some at the store.” Kay takes one of Hux’s hands and kisses his knuckles. “Will you be alright if I’m gone for a little bit?”

Hux scoffs. “I think I’ll survive.”

When Kay is at the store, Hux busies himself with investigating his home. He finds a stack of printed photographs along one of the bookshelves. He splits into a grin, instantly recognizing Kay as a teenager. Tall, lanky, shaggy-haired. He flips to the next one. This one makes his smile falter a little. It’s of Kay as a teenager from behind, and he’s holding a ball up so that the other child in the photograph is just out of reach. The other child in younger and has dark curls and wide eyes. Poe Dameron.

Dameron hates him. He would undoubtedly disapprove of everything that’s happened between him and his brother. He hasn’t got a clue on how he’s supposed to keep Dameron from losing his mind if he ever finds out. That’s an issue for the future.

Hux puts the photographs away and tucks his hands in the pockets of Kay’s worn sweatshirt. He never wants to wear another article of clothing unless it’s been worn by Kay. He wanders around the house, cataloguing the titles of Kay’s mother’s small library. Many of the texts are medical, some are anthropological. He takes out a book on traditional multicolored weaving by the indigenous people of Yavin 4. The cloths adorning Kay’s room appear to be of the same origin.

Later, Kay arrives with two large cloth bags filled with groceries. Hux sets his book down and pads over to the kitchen, eager to help Kay with his haul.

“I got a spread,” Kay tells him, unpacking the bags. “Your scissors, too.” He also bought something they never properly discussed needing—lube and condoms. They’re in his jacket pocket. He doesn’t want to startle Hux or make him think he’s expected to do anything he isn’t ready to do. Kay just wants the option, just in case opportunity strikes them both.

“Thank you,” Hux smiles fondly, helping Kay organize his mother’s refrigerator. “Although I’m afraid I don’t know what half these items are—or how to cook with them.” He doesn’t know how to cook at all.

“Good. Now I don’t have to feel bad for making you eat all my favorite meals.”

Hux flushes, excited to share these meals with Kay. Every meal, from now and forward. After the groceries are away, Kay guides him to the refresher. He sits on the toilet and has Hux sit between his knees, facing away.

Indulgently, Kay combs and trims the soft hairs around Hux’s ears, playfully gripping his skull when Hux misbehaves and moves too much. He finishes quickly, brushing away the trimmings from Hux’s shoulders. He takes a damp cloth to his hair to remove the debris from Hux’s now neatly styled hair.

Because he can, Kay kisses the top of his skull. “There you are.”

Hux stands and examines himself in the mirror. Neat as can be. “You should think about doing this professionally.”

Kay grins and sets his tools aside. When he tries to stand, he instead finds a lap full of Hux, clinging to him like a mynock. They kiss wetly, the lid of the toilet clanging as Kay’s back collides with it. But they pay it no mind. If one were to tell Hux a year ago that he’d be dry humping a Resistance medic over a toilet at said medic’s mother’s house, he’d have recoiled.

Now that he has Kay beneath him, around him, Hux can only think about one thing: devouring him. Kay’s hands are deliciously rough with him, his hands scooping each buttock. He nearly throws out his back lifting Hux as he stands, but despite his orthopedic training, finds it worth the risk as it elicits a shocked gasp from the man in his arms.

Kay brings them into his bedroom, not before knocking Hux into the doorframe, a sin for which he briefly apologizes for. But Hux is too distracted with getting Kay’s tongue back where it belongs—inside his mouth—only releasing it in time for Kay fall over him onto the bed. They roll and grind until Hux ends up on top, straddling Kay’s hips. He pauses, catching his breath.

“I want to suck you,” Hux proclaims.

Kay shudders and brings a thumb to Hux’s bottom lip. “Okay. Kneel for me.”

Eagerly, Hux slides off and kneels on the floor between Kay’s legs. He vibrates with anticipation as he claws at Kay’s pants. A view of Kay at this angle is divine. Kay steps out of his pants and briefs and sits back down. He remembers how Kay took him in his hand and then his mouth, so he gets to work.

It’s an odd taste, odd feeling, but its unique to Kay in the best way. Hux is encouraged by the deep groans coming from him, the warm palm on the back of his neck. Hux is aching in his own shorts, making a sticky mess. He tries to take Kay deeper but it’s easier said than done. He coughs and his mouth makes strange noises, but he’s far from ashamed. He never wants to stop.

Kay stares on as Hux diligently works. The stretch of his mouth, his soft moans and slurps, and the fan of his golden lashes as he closes his eyes to focus. Hux can’t take him very deep, not yet, but he doesn’t need to. Kay cannot hold back, and he’s about to come faster than he’s done in a long, long time.

“I’m close,” Kay breathes, and Hux can tell because his mouth is starting to taste like sharp salt. He pulls and sucks, encouraging Kay to finish in his mouth.

Kay grunts and stiffens as he comes, petting Hux’s face. Hux’s eyes are squeezed shut, his throat fervently working to swallow him. He sputters a bit as Kay slackens in his mouth, flushing from the novel sensation of being filled like this. He’s throbbing in his shorts and he pulls off with a wet pop to reclaim his breath.

“Did you like that?” Kay asks hoarsely.

“It was challenging. But felt—unlike anything. Exhilarating.” Hux is breathing hard, wishing he could do it again immediately. This time, while touching himself. It his fantasies, it would be exquisite, but the task was difficult enough alone and he’d certainly bumble about and make a fool of himself.

Kay pulls him up into his lap and grabs him through his shorts. “Can I return the favor now?”

Hux shivers, nodding silently and swallowing around the slickness of Kay’s release still swirling in his mouth. _Do anything, everything to me._

With two mighty hands around Hux’s hips, Kay rolls them over so that Hux is on his back, bracketing his waist with his thighs. Kay stands to pull Hux’s shorts off, making a show of it. Kay holds Hux by his ankles and tugs him so that his bare ass hangs over the edge of the bed. Hux bites his lip, letting Kay guide his knees over his shoulders as he gets to his knees.

Kay’s mouth is a tight confinement around him, made more tantalizing by the palms on his ass and the free range of his hips from his position on the bed and the leverage he has on Kay’s shoulders. When Kay gently pulls off his cock, me brings his mouth to his balls. Hux moans, allowing Kay all access. Kay pushes Hux’s legs up off his shoulders and pins them towards his chest, folding him over and exposing him fully.

Fuck. Hux whines, grabbing onto the backs of his knees and holding his legs spread. To his disbelief and amazement, Kay drags his tongue down the skin leading to the seam of his ass. When his tongue reaches his hole, Hux eyes widen is shock. He yelps and moans uncontrollably and Kay brings his tongue deeper, rougher, eating him out. Synchronously, Kay fists his cock, eliciting more debauched noises from Hux. Somehow, after Kay works over his hole again and again, his tongue spears him. Hux comes with a silent scream, cock spurting hot ropes on his stomach.

That evening, Hux helps Kay chop his array of vegetables into neat and tidy slices. He enjoys this, just as he enjoyed watching Kay finish the work that he interrupted yesterday. Among other things, Kay is good with his hands. He instructs Hux to evenly slice the vegetables, offering critiques where it’s completely unnecessary. Hux playfully shoves him towards the stove, telling him to stop micromanaging.

There’s a conversation that they’re too afraid to have. What happens next? They can’t stay hiding at Kay’s mother’s house or anywhere else, for that matter. Hux has a price on his head and Kay will, too, if his brother finds out about them.

For now, Hux allows himself the fresh air that is being with Kay: cooking and cleaning, laughing and having amazing sex.

Hux pads over to the stove to see what Kay is doing. Little balls of red meat stewing with Kay’s concoction of sauces and spices will the base of the pot. Kay holds up a ladle of it so he can try. It tastes like nothing that’s ever been in the First Order kitchens, nor the Resistance bunker. Kay has opened his world up so much that he doesn’t waste time thinking about his bleak, monochromatic life before him.

“Can you bring those over here?” Kay asks, bumping him with his hip.

“You mean these, the vegetables I cut so well?”

“Those would be the ones,” he smirks. Hux passes him the bowl of his impeccably sliced vegetables and Kay combines them with his stew.

When the Kay deems the stew complete, he serves them two scoops each over rice. Hux groans appreciatively, not unlike the groans Kay’s been coaxing out of him for the past day. Afterwards, Kay makes him some tea that his mother has in her cabinet, telling him to relax while he tidies up. Hux protests, but Kay insists because he’s a guest here.

Hux doesn’t want to be a guest. He wants _this_. He wants a house somewhere where nobody knows or cares who he is. He wants a man to cook and clean with, to hold him into the night after making love. Dread simmers in his gut, threatening to spill over. If he can’t have this, he will never be happy.

It occurs to him that this is the first time he’s ever wanted to be happy. Not only that, but this happiness was tangible. He tastes it, feels it in his bones. The next step is believing he deserves it.

Kay tosses the garbage in a bin outside. _In a bin and not a compactor_ , Hux notes. He pictures many more bags of garbage in many more reeking bins. What an odd fantasy it is, but it’s what he longs for. A simple life with one incredible, insufferable Resistance medic.

They wind the evening down with Kay reclining on the couch and Hux snuggling up to him. Hux breathes in Kay’s intoxicating scent, his cock pulsing from it. He’s surely gone mad, constantly thinking about sex. Now that he’s had sex, he fears he won’t be able to think about anything else.

Kay is talking about something—his recipes for tomorrow, which he’s sure will taste lovely—when Hux can no longer help himself. He stops Kay mid-sentence to straddle him and commence a delicious kiss.

When Kay groans into his mouth, Hux grinds down, letting him know how badly he wants him. Obscenely, Kay fucks his mouth with his tongue, causing Hux to flush all over. Oh, it’s incredible to be devoured.

Kay tugs off Hux’s shirt to get more access to his sweet skin, sucking at his throat and shoulder and making him squirm.

“Kay…” he whines, writhing as Kay pulls him upward to suck at his chest.

“Let me take you to bed,” he tells him, meeting his eye. Hux nods, knot in his throat. He fucking loves him, and this is all going to end in a disaster. A fitting ending for his villainous heart.

Hux allows himself to be led, and to hurry things along, he pulls of his shorts. He flops on the bed, completely nude and legs spread.

Kay stares at the rise and fall of his reddened chest, the arc of his thighs, the ache behind his darkened gaze. He divests of his clothing quickly, and joins Hux on the bed, caging him in with his arms and chest. He gasps when Hux’s legs loop around his hips, his heels digging into his buttocks to push him forward. He collapses over him with a kiss, rolling their cocks together.

Hux breaks the kiss to catch his breath, quaking as Kay humps against him. “I want you,” he whispers, clawing at Kay’s scalp.

“You have me.”

Hux swallows. Kay doesn’t seem to get it at first. “I liked when you used your tongue. Down there,” he says shyly, feeling a bit like an imbecile.

Kay’s eyes widen. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” It was indescribable. Not only was it novel, but it was maddening. He felt worshiped. He felt wanted. Kay tongues appreciatively at his throat, giving him a sneak preview. “I want to go all the way,” he blurts, meeting Kay’s eye when he sits up to look at him.

“Yeah?” Kay repeats dumbly, his cock throbbing at the idea. “It will hurt.”

“I’m sure of it.” He doesn’t care. It’s all he can think about.

“We’d go slow. As slow as you need it.”

Hux nods, feeling Kay’s fingers reach low and brush over his hole. “I really fucking want it,” he laments, taking Kay’s earlobe in his teeth.

Kay had no idea Hux would be this wild and unpredictable in bed. He pulls away fully map out the best position for him. “Lie on your stomach.”

Eager, Hux finds the position. Kay is on him and begins to writhe his cock on Hux’s ass and lapping at the back of Hux’s ear. Hux shudders, relishing in Kay’s weight over him, the promise of their current positions.

Then, Kay slides down and anoints him with kisses down his spine. He takes Hux’s ass and parts his cheeks to drag his tongue over him, massaging the ring of muscle until it starts to loosen.

“Oh my…” Hux moans into the pillow, arching his back. Kay continues for an eternity, tonguing him deep until he feels slick and loose. His cock strains against the mattress, but it’s left alone for now. Kay was right about taking his time. Wetness drips down his leg, absolutely debauched.

Kay pulls away, admiring his work. He pulls out the lube from under his bed and uncaps it, pouring some on his fingers. He gets back on the bed to bring a finger to Hux’s hole, moving it in and out until the resistance lessens.

Hux’s eyes are wide open, heart hammering as Kay plays with him from the inside. It doesn’t hurt until he adds another two fingers but by then he is chasing more of the burn. Kay begins to fuck him with a little over half his hand, plucking music from him like a harp. Hux shakes, panting silently into the pillow as Kay elicits these hot, repressed feelings of pleasure from him.

Kay continues fucking Hux on his hand until he can move his fingers from inside him, causing Hux to moan into the sheet. “I’m gonna pull my hand out,” he warns him, watching as Hux’s face melts from ecstasy to frustration. “I’ll enter you while you’re on your stomach, then we can try a few positions until you figure out what’s most comfortable for you, okay?”

Hux’s brain shut off for a second when the phrase _I will enter you_ rings through it like a siren. But he nods, eagerly waiting to finally be impaled.

When Kay rolls the condom on, he adds more lube to himself and to Hux, ensuring that he is careful and deliberate to make this as painless as possible for him. Kay lines himself up and presses in, jaw clenched as Hux’s delicious heat captures him.

Hux stiffens, face agape, as Kay’s dick nestles inside. It’s larger than what his fingers prepared him for, and the burn is potent. Kay’s cock is shocking, rigid, and he wills his body to accept it.

“Just breathe,” Kay chokes, trying to take his own advice. He bottoms out and pants heavily into Hux’s hair.

Kay rests here, only making small, muted motions with his hips to ensure Hux can properly adjust by the time he moves. Hux’s face is buried in the pillow, his hands trembling and scrabbling beside his head. Kay kisses him on the skin between his shoulder blades until Hux loses some tension.

“I’m gonna put you on your hands and knees,” Kay tells him, and Hux makes a small noise in acknowledgement. He allows himself to be pulled, still full of Kay’s cock. Kay begins moving slowly in and out, just enough for him to feel himself opening and closing. The friction builds and Hux gasps as the pain bleeds away.

Hux gasps, picturing how he looks and how Kay must look. He feels so raw, so full, made more real when Kay begins to move more forcefully.

“Oh,” Hux gasps, drooling a bit as Kay speeds up, back and forth over the spot that makes him tingle from deep inside. Kay’s moans from behind make him crazy for it, and he claws at the sheets as his pleasure builds.

Kay tries to thing about anything besides coming as Hux mewls along in pleasure. He almost forgot about his cock, so focused on the insanity of Kay making him feel like this from the inside, that when Kay grabs onto it with a lubed hand, he immediately comes, so noisily and quickly that he embarrasses himself. Kay fucks him faster and he chases the painful pleasure of an intense orgasm.

Graciously, he’s lucid enough afterward to feel Kay throbbing inside him. When Kay finishes, he pulls out of Hux’s tender hole and Hux collapses in his little puddle, unable to move.

Hux closes his eyes, almost falling asleep until he feels Kay on the edge of the bed, his hand carding through his hair.

“Are you alright?”

“That was incredible.” Then, he makes a face. “It burns.”

“That should fade,” Kay tells him.

Hux adjusts on the bed, staring at him with wet eyes. He can’t speak. Instead, he takes his hand and lays it over Kay’s heart. Of course, Kay understands.


	11. Betrayal

Hux wakes, feeling too warm. He’s on his side, over Kay’s chest and using him as a pillow. He doesn’t move because Kay is still asleep. He closes his eyes, lost in the rhythm of his heart.

Then, Kay tosses and pulls him tightly with his opposite arm. He blinks blearily at him and his soft smile makes Hux ache.

“What are we doing?” Hux laments, in place of a ‘good morning.’

Kay smirks. “Sleeping.”

“You know what I mean.”

Kay kisses his forehead with all the tenderness he can muster. “I don’t know.”

“What’s gonna happen next?”

Of course, Kay has thought about this at length. He can’t let Hux go. It isn’t safe for him on his own. Kay wants Hux with him, holding him close every night.

“We’ll figure it out,” Kay says, attempting to assuage him.

But Hux isn’t satisfied with that answer. “I see this ending terribly.” He’ll be taken from Kay, whether it be by a bounty hunter or the Resistance. This is unsustainable.

“I don’t.”

“Your confidence is normally attractive, but right now it’s just tiresome.”

Kay kisses Hux’s soft hair, inhaling his naturally sweet scent. “I will do what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Are you going to keep me in a hovel somewhere, eagerly awaiting your return?”

A fleeting scene of Hux running outside to meet him like a Republic navy wife. “That’s on the list of ideas.”

“Care to share any more of them?”

Kay lays a hand over Hux’s. He sees no other option than to keep Hux close. “I can talk to Poe. If I explain to him everything that’s happened between us, he’ll understand.”

Hux scoffs. Impossible.

“I’ll make him understand.”

“You’re not very good at getting through to him,” Hux retorts plainly. The only way he got his leg was because Kay went behind Poe’s back.

“This will be different. It’s dire. If he doesn’t let you stay with us protected on base, then I’ll take you somewhere where I can protect you. He’ll never see or hear from us again,” Kay vows, startling himself with the confession. He loves his brother, but this is life or death for Hux. If given the choice, he’d choose to keep Hux safe.

Hux stares at him, brow pinched. “You can’t mean that.”

“But I do. I love you.”

Hux’s face twists, overcome by Kay’s confession. Clumsily, Hux claws on top of him to straddle him. He grinds against Kay’s dick, shivering when Kay pulls him down to devour the soft skin of his throat. With a grunt, Kay sits up and pins Hux’s hips against his growing erection. He nips and sucks at his pale, unblemished skin, making Hux tremble and pant with want.

Wordless and in sync, Kay flips Hux over on his back, holding him by his spread thighs. He fingers him, feeling the slick from last night that their shower didn’t completely take care of. Hux holds himself spread by the backs of his knees, longing to be filled again.

Tragically, it takes ages for Kay to find the condoms and lube. When he is ready to finish preparing him, Hux tries to get him to hurry on with it. But Kay takes his time fingering him open, sucking gently at the head of his cock.

When Kay enters him, the burn is almost unbearable, having been so freshly fucked several hours prior. But the pain doesn’t matter, not when Kay bottoms out and his lips pinch at his earlobe as he whispers to him how incredible he feels. Hux claws at his back, uncaring of the marks he’s leaving behind. Kay encourages him, reaching to tug Hux to complete hardness. The anticipation of getting to look Kay in the eye as he fucks him makes Hux abandon his fixation on the burn.

“Please, move,” Hux whines, wriggling his legs in the air. Kay sits back and throws his legs over his shoulders and begins to fuck him deeply. Hux goes wild, keening at every movement. His hands find Kay’s stomach, his pecs. When Kay suddenly folds him with his weight, Hux grips his face, staring into his eyes, solidifying a permanent connection.

Hux begs for him to go harder and Kay obliges, grunting as he sends Hux skidding a bit. Hux adapts, holding his arms over his head and gripping the wall for leverage. He didn’t intend to kiss Kay because he didn’t want him to taste his morning breath, but Kay doesn’t care, tonguing into his gaping mouth with every thrust.

Kay fucks him until the tears in his eyes stripe down his face, until his moans turn breathy and inhuman, until he comes when Kay tells him to, with a silent sob, spilling over Kay’s tight fist. Then he fucks him some more, until Hux’s teeth in his shoulder hit every single button he didn’t know he had. He shouts into Hux’s neck, coming with slow, disjointed thrusts.

“I love you,” Hux confesses, taking Kay’s face in his hands as he softens inside him. To hear this from Hux is like music.

\--

_Two days ago_

_In orbit above the abandoned Resistance base of Ajan Kloss_

Finn sets up the coordinates for their current base on Dantooine. “Find what you were looking for?” he asks Poe, tightlipped.

“Yep.” The intruder that shot up their old base on Ajan Kloss and freed their prisoner also took the time to blow up their surveillance room. It seemed inconsequential. But that was then. This is now.

“You realize that you’re wasting your time. Our time. Right?” Poe dragged him back to Ajan Kloss to procure the damaged surveillance databanks, all on the gut feeling that his big brother is hiding something.

“I need answers.”

Poe Dameron trusts his brother. He does.

But the infiltration last month that lead to General Hux’s escape has left him unsettled. With Kay’s behavior—leaving right after the incident—Poe’s doubts became impossible to ignore. He tracked Kay’s finances, and what he found was startling. Kay had withdrawn all his savings and dug into a debt larger than what he was previously worth.

What did Kay blow his money on? A speeder? A bookie? Poe’s imagination ran wild. Could Kay have procured help to stage an escape for their prisoner? Whatever it was, Kay didn’t want him to know about it.

“Why the rush to do the forensics now?” Finn asks.

“I didn’t check it at first because I didn’t think we needed to.” They already got the specs of the enemy ship when it left the system.

“Have you tried calling him? I’m sure he has an explanation.”

“I’m sure he’ll give me an explanation, not _the_ explanation.”

Finn pilots the cruiser to the base, letting Poe grovel in his copilot’s chair. Finn’s picked up a thing or two about piloting for these routine missions.

Back on Dantooine, Poe surrenders the blown camera repository to his best tech. He makes sure the tech knows that if she’s able to pull any imagery from the damaged hardware, don’t tell anyone but him or Finn.

A half a day later, the tech summons Poe with a grim call on his comm. “ _We found something, General_.”

The video feed is choppy from the damage, but the images are clear enough for Finn and Poe to determine the identity of the figure. It’s the intruder, the woman who slaughtered four of their people. The feed depicts her in the hall, blowing through the locked doorway of Hux’s cell and entering it with blasters raised. When she emerges from the room a few minutes later, her blasters are holstered. Hux follows her, and then Kay.

It’s not the scene Kay described. No one is being forced out at gunpoint.

Hux has two legs.

Blood pulses in Poe’s ears as he watches Kay say, “ _this way_ ” and lead them down the hall to punch in the code to open the door. The audio fades a bit but comes back in time for Poe to make out: “ _Kock me out. They have to think_ —” Kay’s skull collides with the butt of the intruder’s blaster and he falls to the ground. Poe glares at the little digital Hux, who looks sorry for him.

“Poe,” Finn starts. This whole charade takes the cake. He’s feeling plenty of his own fury and betrayal, too. But for Poe, this is deeply personal.

When Poe says nothing, Finn knows that he’s been deeply hurt. Poe is normally full of quips and retorts. He wishes that he would just punch something, but instead, Poe is silent.

“We should call him,” Finn tries. “This looks bad, but we can give him a little bit of the benefit of the doubt.”

Poe inhales sharply, patting his pockets. He beelines for the hangar. Finn marches after him, stamping out a quick message to Rey and Chewie. _URGENT. Poe needs help. We’re leaving right now. Backup?_ Almost seconds later, a reply from Rey: _Chewie can’t but I’ll be there._

“Where are we going?”

Poe doesn’t turn around. “Yavin 4.”

\--

Hux admires Kay from the porch, the labor he puts in to upkeeping his mother’s front yard. He sips his tea, eyes glued to the bulging muscles of his back.

Kay loves him. He loves Kay. Nothing can take that away from them.

“I could use a hand out here,” Kay smirks.

Hux makes a face. “Cute.”

Kay laughs, bending in his space for a kiss. Hux happily obliges and throws his arms around Kay’s shoulders.

Flash forward a few minutes and Kay has Hux on his back in the bedroom, one of his legs thrown askew as he plows into him. They can’t keep their hands off one another, a matter only made worse by Hux’s enthusiasm and demand for rigorous anal sex. Kay’s back is sore from their incessant coupling, but to have Hux in this way is everything. The discomfort is worth it.

They fuck slow as they lay on their sides, quaking with pleasure. A few hours later they fuck some more, with Hux on his back with his legs thrown at opposite angles, sloppy and sweet and perfect. Hux, as it turns out, is a scratcher and at times, a bit of a biter. He always apologizes for his behavior while in the throes of passion, but Kay embraces the languid, feral side of him.

Later that evening, a thorough shower is a hundred percent warranted. Kay tells Hux to go first while he gets dinner started. Hux washes his skin, shivering as he soaps up his well-loved hole. Kay makes him feel so much, physically and emotionally. Burning like a charging laser cannon from the inside out with every tryst, while exchanging precious promises of love.

He sorts through Kay’s clothing, tugging on simple sweatpants and the biggest shirt he can find. It’s got a New Republic insignia on it. He fingers the worn fabric, a relic of a bygone era.

“Looks good on you,” Kay hums, tossing together a simple stir-fry. He loves to cook. To cook is to love.

“Fashionably or politically?”

Kay snorts. That’s only a sentence Hux would say. “The Republic and the Resistance were Poe’s endeavors. I just followed him.”

“Have you ever had a relationship with anyone worse than me?” Hux asks dryly, watching Kay work.

“I know everything terrible you’ve done.” Kay pauses, letting the comment sit out in the open. Hux isn’t looking directly at him. “But I’m more worried for you.”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t know about any of the terrible things that I’ve done.”

“I don’t care about that,” Hux exasperates. Kay is different. He’s more than his past. 

“Is it so hard to believe that I feel the same about you?”

Hux wilts, drinking in Kay’s profile. Before Hux can find the right thing to say, Kay pulls him in by his waist, kissing him gently. “Watch this for me. It needs another fifteen minutes or so.”

Kay leaves him with a parting, “ _don’t let it burn!_ ” before heading off to shower, laughing at Hux’s defensive, “ _shut up_.”

Hux smiles softly, his hand over his heart. Dutifully, he stirs Kay’s dinner. He wants a future where Kay teaches him all he knows about cooking and restoring panels on porches—without the help of a set of droids. He wants evenings like these, filled with good food and love, and ending with Kay fucking him until he can’t speak.

The forceful rap at the door pulls him from the fantasy.

“Open the door!”

The bottom of his stomach drops when he instantly recognizes the voice. Poe Dameron.

“I know you’re home. Open the damn door!”

After Hux overcomes his initial shock, he sprints for the bathroom. He pulls the curtain back to reveal Kay’s concerned, soapy face.

“Your brother is at the door,” Hux hisses.

For only a beat, Kay allows the panic to consume him. “Stay here,” he tells an anxious Hux, quickly drying what he can and tugging on sweats from the hamper.

Kay marches to the door, tossing his towel over his shoulder. He yanks it open mid-pound. “What are you doing here?”

Poe rails past him and enters the home. Finn and Rey hesitate before following him inside, allowing Kay to step out of the way first.

Stone faced, Kay watches as his brother paces around the living room. He tries to push past him as if to search the place.

“What is this about?” Kay demands, cutting in front of his brother to keep him from getting too deep into the house.

Poe glowers, stepping back. “We salvaged the feed from our old base. We saw you help Hux bust out. You lied to me and you betrayed us.”

Kay looks from Rey to Finn, who are characteristically stoic. “I can explain.”

“Before you try and lie to my face again, I’m gonna tell you what else I know. What I know is that you drained your bank account and the very next day, General Hux is marching out of his cell on _two legs_ to freedom. So, tell me this isn’t what it looks like. Tell me you didn’t release an ex-First Order officer, a wanted war criminal, for a quick payday.”

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Kay tells him. “I helped him leave because I feared you would punish him for the attack on the base.”

“Four of our people were slaughtered in that escape.”

“I’m sorry. I am. But that wasn’t his fault.” Hux had no control of the situation, any more than he did.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth,” Poe spits.

“Why did you get him the prosthesis?” Rey interjects, unaccusatory.

Kay smells the smoking stove and moves to shut it off. “That was the deal you all made. I was simply following through with your promise. I made the choice so you wouldn’t have to be seen as weak for doing it yourself,” he tells his brother. But Poe sees through him. Poe studies Kay, his conviction and disarray.

Something is off.

“If you’re here to arrest me, then do it. But I’m no longer in contact with him. I gave him the help he required and got nothing out of it for myself,” Kay lies, crossing his arms. Rey and Finn share a look of uncertainty. “Is that all?”

Uncaring of the excuse his brother is spinning, Poe looks back and forth to the burning stove, Kay’s soaked through shorts, and the wet patches from his footprints. He examines the door. There are two pairs of men’s boots.

It dawns on him like a bucket of ice over his head.

Hux is here.

“Help me search the house,” Poe tells Rey and Finn, who don’t hesitate to split up and search the place.

Kay scrambles after Poe, who decides to scout his bedroom, where Hux is hiding in his bathroom. Poe stomps around, checking under the extremely messy bed, the closet. He catches Kay blocking the door to the bathroom.

“Move.”

Kay says nothing and doesn’t comply. It’s ridiculous at this point. But he’s Hux’s last line of defense.

“Guys, in here!” Poe calls out. Finn and Rey file into the cramped bedroom. “Get out of my way or I’ll shoot you.”

“Poe, cool it,” Finn warns, but Poe ignores him. Dammit, this is a mess.

Finn’s eyes fall on the unmistakable tube of half-empty lubricant on the bed. Lubricant. A stack of condoms on the table. What the fuck. He nudges Rey and points out the clues, to which Rey responds with a hand over her mouth. “Poe—”

Poe doesn’t want to hear it. “Kay, get your ass out of the way before I shoot you.” He rests a hand on his blaster at his hip.

Kay jolts when he hears the bathroom door. Hux slowly steps out, meeting Poe’s glare head-on. “Don’t shoot him.”

There was a small part of Poe that wishes his suspicions were unfounded. Now, he must live with the extent of his brother’s lies and betrayal. And to make things worse, Kay backs up against Hux as if trying to protect him. What the hell has gotten into him?

“Poe. I don’t think you understand,” Finn tries.

“Understand what?”

“I think they’re…together.” Finn sees Kay shift from serious to righteous. Behind him, Hux is blushing, looking at the ground.

“What?” Poe snaps, flabbergasted.

“They’re _together,_ ” Rey clarifies, or she attempts to, but it appears Poe is already filling in the blanks. He gapes at his brother.

The look on his face.

The bite marks on his chest.

The state of the room.

The condoms.

Everything is still. Hux makes the mistake of looking Poe in the eye, and Poe lunges. “You little prick—!”

Poe is wrenched backward by Finn and Rey. “Poe, come on…”

Finn manages to coax Poe away in a near-chokehold outside where he has space to cool off. Rey stands guard, arms crossed.

“This is a bit messier than I thought it was going to be,” she tells Kay over Poe’s groans of anguish.

Kay gives her a weary look, then turns to Hux. _I’m sorry,_ he says with his eyes. Hux nods. He knew this couldn’t last. Kay will get them out of this. He’ll talk to Poe and if he can’t be reasoned with, nothing will stop him from insuring their freedom in other ways. Kay finishes drying himself and dressing.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kay promises Hux, who remains silent. He doesn’t hold any of the cards here.

When they emerge from the room, Poe is on the couch with his face buried in his hands, Finn looking at them helplessly.

Pointedly, Hux stands up straight and defiant. He won’t apologize for what he shares with Kay, but he’s not stupid enough to make things worse by talking to Poe directly.

Thankfully Poe doesn’t leave them guessing for long. He stands up, composing himself. “He’s a fugitive and we’re taking him back to base. Turn around.”

Kay steps forward. “You don’t want to do this,” he threatens. “Leave now and you’ll never see us again.”

Poe recoils. He doesn’t recognize his brother. All this—for General Hux? “You’ve been going behind my back, been lying to me for months, so you could screw some fascist asshole?”

“Leave. Now.”

“Why? So you can give him more of your _medicine,_ Doc?”

Seeing red, Kay lunges to attack. Poe lurches forward, too, but they’re both stopped by their respective partners.

“Please don’t,” Hux says, his arm around Kay’s chest. “I’ll go with them.”

“You don’t have to give in.”

“I want to go,” Hux insists. “It’s better this way.” He looks to Poe, who may just want to rip his head off.

Poe steps forward. “Turn around,” he barks to Hux, pulling out a pair of mag-cuffs.

But Kay stops him with a rough hand on his shoulder. “Anywhere you take him, you take me.”

Poe simply nods and allows Kay to spin around. Clinically, he locks the cuffs around his wrists. Kay glares hotly as Poe locks a pair on Hux, daring Poe to cause him harm.

As they’re escorted out, Kay calls over his shoulder to his brother. “Can you message my mother and tell her I’m sorry about leaving a mess for her?”

“Of course,” Poe replies, amicable. After all, they are family.

\--

Aboard the cruiser, Hux sits behind Finn and Rey with his wrists pinned magnetically to the arm rests of the passenger chair. Kay is somewhere in the rear of the hull, getting interrogated by his brother.

Rey is the first to acknowledge him. He’s never spoken to her, really. However, he has ordered lethal force on her multiple times. “Why’d you help us?” she asks.

“Help you?” he replies primly.

“It just doesn’t make sense. You work your whole life to destroy freedom and democracy. What changed?”

“Some things can’t be explained.” He’s so unfamiliar with the concept of _helping_ people other than himself, that he doesn’t fully understand why he let his Resistance entanglements get so far. 

Why did he help the Resistance?

First, he wanted revenge. Everything Supreme Leader Snoke had put him through, and then everything Supreme Leader _Kylo Ren_ personally inflicted on him and his once-treasured First Order, had made him ravenous with retribution. Then, when he had nothing but his relationship with the Resistance, he wanted to remain protected. He wanted to be useful, to have purpose.

But things changed. He met Kay. First, Kay was stoic and professional. Then, he was _aggravating_ and incredibly unprofessional. He was kind. Hilarious. Handsome.

Ultimately, Kay saw him. He listened to his feelings and read scripture from his bones—and damn it all, he _wanted_ him. He wanted to deserve him. He wanted to do something to prove he was deserving of forgiveness, happiness, and love.

Rey studies him, not seeing into his mind, just brushing at his edges with hers. Sorrow. Dread. Longing. And blanketing it all, wild love.

Some people—like Ben Solo—are simple. Ben was a misguided man full of regret. But some men—like Hux—are so bizarre and complicated that they’re beyond comprehension.

“What do you hope will happen next?” She’s curious.

Hux crosses his legs. “I’ve rarely been the type to hope.” A shout from the back alerts them of the brothers’ heated arguing. He makes out the muffled ‘ _General fucking Hux!’_ from Dameron. “Which is a habit I must maintain,” he mutters, wishing for yesterday.

“Definitely didn’t make it any easier by making _that_ move,” Finn comments suggestively, pointing with his eyes to the back of the ship, where the shouting continues.

“That…was not intentional,” Hux admits. “Things very much took their own course between Kay and I.”

Finn can’t help his next question. “Do you care about him?” He expects Hux to turn his nose, or at least, clam up. So, when Hux’s eyes shine with unshed tears, it tips something off its axis.

“He’s all I care about,” Hux confesses. If it could only be yesterday.

\--

Kay and Poe sit on opposite sides of the cargo hold. Kay’s hands are bound behind him. He cannot be trusted to keep the peace now.

The brothers don’t typically fight. As they became seasoned members of the New Republic, and seamlessly transitioned to the Resistance, they kept each other cool. Nothing was as dangerous and traumatic as their life of crime with the Spice Runners of Kijimi. Nothing was worth getting at one another’s throats.

Poe breaks the silence. He meets Kay’s glare. “I don’t get it.”

Kay regards him resolutely from his bound recline. “I love him.”

Poe groans, fingers raking roughly in his curls. This is insane.

“And he loves me,” Kay proclaims, unashamed. “I wanted you to know as soon as I was sure you were ready. I was hoping you’d understand.” But it looks like he was wrong.

“This can’t be happening,” Poe groans. His dear brother. And General _Hux._ He’s imagining it, and it makes him want to scream. Is it possible to scrub his brain without leaving permanent damage?

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Kay continues. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. You are free to feel whatever you wish about him and about us. But that changes nothing.”

“So, when I trusted you with caring for him, when you were worried about _my_ interrogations being bad for his state of mind— _you_ were doing your Doctor Love treatment? They teach you that in med school?”

Kay’s jaw works. “By the time anything happened between us, he was already cleared. What he and I have is real.”

“It’s Hux! General. Fucking. Hux!” Poe shouts. “The same General Hux that vaporized the entire Hosnian system. You and I used to live there. We knew people. Good people. Families. Children. That General Hux? He’s the same brand of evil rat bastard we’re trying to exterminate.” Fascist. Bad. Doesn’t matter how tight his ass is.

“You don’t understand him.”

“What the hell is there to understand?!”

“And you don’t understand me.”

Poe gapes, both confused and shocked at Kay’s verdict. “You’re nothing like him,” Poe counters, convinced.

“He and I are different, but we are also the same.”

“You’re a hero. You heal people.”

“I heal people because it’s a job I can do. I’m better at killing,” Kay pushes back. Poe looks confused, bitter. “I killed a lot of people for you, whether you knew it or not. I’m damned loyal, but that doesn’t make me good, never mind a hero.” He’s never tried to be, and never wanted to be. He’s a man with a skillset.

“We both had to do things we weren’t proud of back then,” Poe says, trying to meet him somewhere resembling the middle.

Kay shakes his head. “The spice runners taught me how to kill. Not only how to do it, but how to accept the damage that I’ve done. I’ve killed other gangsters, but I’ve slaughtered…countless innocent people whose only fault was that they got in the way. Good people. Families with children.”

Poe’s angry eyes are wet with unshed tears. But Kay continues. It’s time he’s heard this. “I did it—all of it—so you wouldn’t have to. It shocked me at first how little it affected me when I was doing it, and now, knowing you never had to, I still believe it was worth it. Then in the end, our only way out of running spice was to wipe out our ship. I did that, too, with glee. It meant you were free and could finally start your life.” Kay watches as Poe’s glare hardens, connecting old memories with Kay’s new information. “What was important was my loyalty to you. If you had asked me to join the damned Empire or the First Order, I would have, no question. Because all I ever cared about was you. This fight you have in you. It’s not mine. I only care about the Resistance because it’s yours. I only care about your friends because they’re yours.”

“I don’t even know what you want me to say,” Poe tells him after a pause, astonished at this foreign callousness.

“Just listen,” Kay says. “I’m not a good person. Neither is Hux. But whether you approve it or not, that’s what makes him and I good for each other. So damn good it’s impossible to put into words.”

He and Hux understand each other. He saw beyond the pain and the hatred and the murder and saw a man who since the beginning, never stood a chance. When Hux made the choice to become a spy for the Resistance, the whole universe opened before him and expanded his worldview beyond the walls of the First Order. While in recovery as prisoner and later intelligence resource for the Resistance, he was given a chance to build himself from the ground-up. Now, he sees Hux for who he truly is: a passionate, intelligent, clever individual. Kay fucking adores him.

Poe stands abruptly, stalking off to the cockpit and abandoning his brother to the lonely hum of the cruiser. Behind Finn, Hux is perched elegantly in one of the chairs. Poe brands him with a seething glare, trying to figure out what kind of spell this guy put on his brother.

Poe is still reeling from Kay’s confession. It’s fucking tragic, but Poe knows Kay is in love with this man. He must accept this.

Hux is a different story. How the hell is he supposed to believe that Hux gives a crap about his brother and isn’t just using him until he bleeds him dry? Is Hux even capable of caring about anyone or anything besides himself?

Arms bound, Hux remains silent. He doesn’t dare look at Poe, but he can feel his eyes.

Finn peers at Poe from the chair. “You okay?”

“Never better.” Poe’s contempt belies his words. After a few minutes of tense silence, Poe can’t stop himself from approaching Hux directly. “Why him?”

Hux flinches. He summons the courage to meet his eye. “Nothing I say will satisfy you.”

“Is this just what you do? Spin a web to catch lonely saps so they can do your bidding?”

The words sting, but strangely, Hux can sympathize with Poe’s anger. He knows Kay’s loyalty to his brother is unwavering, and Poe’s must be the same. He doesn’t want to hurt Poe because he knows that is essentially hurting Kay.

“I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been with anyone,” Hux replies openly.

Poe wasn’t expecting that response. He leaves the cockpit to wait out the last few hours of the journey alone with his thoughts.

\--

Poe leads them both to their cell. It’s an actual cell, one with a cot. He removes their cuffs and leaves them to stare at one another. He can’t take being beside either of them right now, so he heads off to make a call in the surveillance room next door.

“There are cameras, so no…yeah, okay,” Finn trails off, shutting himself up when Hux retorts with a scandalized glare at what Finn is insinuating. He drops their boots on the floor and the cell door slides shut and for the first time in half a day, they’re alone.

Cameras don’t stop Kay from wrapping Hux in an embrace. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just glad to see you,” Hux whines, melting against him. “I heard shouting. I was worried.”

“All I did was tell him the truth. The whole truth.” Reverently, Kay takes Hux by his jaw. “I won’t let anything come between us.”

Hux nods, aching with grief and uncertainty. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

Hux kisses him so fiercely it stings.

Poe stares blankly at the surveillance camera screen as General Hux and his brother make out. _“I love you,”_ Hux laments, and his brother easily reciprocates.

Poe sits back, flicking the audio off. He pulls out his comm to make that call. One call, and Hux is locked up somewhere far and lonely, for good. He holds his comm in his hand for a heavy moment, lost in conflict.

Time passes, and Poe’s pensive moment is interrupted by Finn’s boots.

“I don’t know what to do,” Poe groans into his hands.

Finn looks at the screens. The cell camera shows Kay and Hux sitting on the cot, Hux’s head resting on Kay’s shoulder. “This is tough.”

“If I send Hux away for the Republic to handle, Kay will never forgive me. Or worse, he’ll end up…doing something he shouldn’t.”

“Or you could let them go,” Finn shrugs.

Poe glares at the screen. The star-crossed lovers appear to be talking but Poe doesn’t want to unmute them. “Just like that, huh?”

“Look. I’m the last guy who wants to let ex-First Order officers free. I spent most of my life terrified of them, and Hux was no different.” Even if Hux was a punching bag. But as Finn got older, he started to pity him. He was a small, evil little man who only lived to hurt others. Hux and his Commandant father were the reason Finn was taken from his family. He was abused, tortured, and manipulated by the First Order since childhood. Although veiled by a higher rank, Hux’s upbringing was comparable to his. The only difference between them was that Finn’s pain brought him to rebellion against tyranny, while Hux made the choice to embrace it.

But how far does that difference reach? In the end, they both abandoned the First Order and ended up as significant members of the Resistance. Not that he would refer to Hux as a member, but from his tenure as a Resistance spy before Exegul, to his invaluable weapons designs that has helped them eliminate mass casualties in cruiser battles, Hux has become a pivotal asset.

“All I’m saying, and hear me out before you implode,” Finn continues. “All I’m saying is that things have changed. Maybe he’s not the same guy that built Starkiller Base.”

To Finn’s surprise, Poe doesn’t lash out. Instead, Poe peers pensively at the screen. “Even if that is true, I still have to make a choice. I’m terrified of making the wrong one. It’s not just me and my beef with my brother, here. People see us and want what’s best for the cause.” Letting Hux go desecrates the memories of all those the First Order has slaughtered. Finn and Poe are in charge. They set the stage.

“It’s not exactly a secret that General Hux has been helping us out for over a year and counting. Maybe you’re overestimating how much everyone hates the guy,” Finn suggests.

“You may be underestimating how much _I_ hate the guy.”

“How much of that hate stems from, ah…current events?”

Poe groans dramatically. “My dear brother is not only _sleeping_ with that aggravating little twink—”

“Um—”

“—but he’s in love with him. And now, Kay acts like he’s a damned gift to the galaxy. And he tells me I need to just accept it, like, no questions asked. I’m not the bad guy here. I have legitimate concerns for his mental and physical wellbeing.”

Finn nods and taps the doorframe. “Or maybe it’s true love. Can’t stop true love.”

“Not helping!” Poe calls after him.

Poe sits alone, staring at the screen, the serenity of his demeanor with Hux in his arms. He’s never seen Kay this impassioned towards anyone or anything. Poe watches Hux fold his twiggy little legs on the cot. He looks harmless.

A deafening siren bursts from the loudspeakers. This can only mean one thing: attack. He pulls his comm to his ear. The open line carries a call from the fleet resting in orbit. _“It’s the First Order. They have found our base and are launching an attack!”_

Poe’s blood runs cold, pounding in his ears. The First Order found them.

Right after Hux’s arrival.

He pulls out his blaster and marches for the cell.


	12. Saved

Hux clutches Kay’s arm as the base’s emergency sirens bounce around their space. The door slides open and Poe fills the room, blaster poised and aiming for him.

“You little bastard,” Poe growls.

“What the hell is going on?” Kay barks, lurching forward with his chest bumping into Poe’s blaster. Poe tries to drag the line of fire away from Kay, but it’s impossible with Kay’s shielding.

“Weeks pass without an incident. But the day he comes back with us, we’re under attack,” Poe accuses.

“Under attack by whom?”

“The First Order.”

Kay’s blood boils with rage. “Dammit, Poe. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“This is your plan, huh?” Poe shouts to Hux. “You come here with your escape pod pretending to be on the run from the First Order, just so you could lead them right back to us? And you drag my brother into this?”

“I escaped _execution_ from the First Order because I was a traitor,” Hux yelps in defense. “I was a spy for your organization, and now they know I’m alive and they know I’ve been working with you since my escape. I wasn’t the one who told them where to find your base. I don’t even know what planet we’re on!”

“How the hell do you expect me to believe you? After everything you’ve done?” Poe fires back.

“I don’t expect anything from you. But if you care about your Resistance, I suggest you stop wasting time on me and go help your people.” It’s the logical, tactical move. Don’t fixate on infighting when the enemy is at your door.

Poe tempers himself, palm sweating around his blaster grip. Hux has been helping them this entire time. He helped bring down Palpatine, Kylo Ren, and their Final Order fleet. He helped himself, Finn, and Chewie evade execution and kept the Falcon protected, all of which led to his own immediate attempted execution. Since he was held captive after his escape, he offered valuable intelligence, improved their weapons and tracking systems, and designed through the engineering flaws in their ancient cruisers. Whether Poe likes it or not, there is no denying how much Hux has aided them.

His brother raises his hands in surrender. “Poe. Listen to me. I know that I’ve lied to you, that I’ve destroyed the trust you have in me. But please remember that I would never do anything to allow anyone to hurt you or your friends,” Kay implores. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m begging you to trust me just one more time.”

He doesn’t know if he’s ready to trust Kay again. He definitely doesn’t trust Hux. But he is allowing his fear cloud his judgement in this critical hour. He clenches his jaw, holding Kay’s gaze.

Fuck it. His big, stupid, lovestruck brother is right. And as much as he loathes to admit it, Hux is right. This isn’t the time to point fingers and thrust his blaster in the faces of everyone he’s pissed at. As quick as he drew it, Poe holsters his blaster away.

“We need to get out of here,” Poe tells them. He doesn’t wait for a response. They follow Poe down the hall, hand in hand.

As per protocol, Finn’s already in the air, along with Rey and Rose. Since the Resistance command fell on his shoulders after they lost Leia, Poe is the one on the ground keeping the command post, as opposed to tearing up Star Destroyers in his X-wing. The glory days of being a hotshot pilot are over. Now, immense duty and responsibility weighs massively on his shoulders.

Poe leads them through the halls towards the main command room. He activates his comm. “Talk to me.”

 _“We’ve already ordered evacuations. Everyone who needs to be in the air is in the air,”_ Lieutenant Connix informs him. _“They outnumber us, but things are looking good up above.”_

A rush of hope fills Poe. Their tireless efforts to dismantle the First Order’s firepower has worked. If this is the last stand, they’re more than ready. “That’s good news.”

 _“Damn right. See you in—”_ A screech garbles the remainder of Connix’s message.

“Lieutenant.” No response. “Anyone on command, please copy.”

When nothing but static fills his comm—a telltale sign their signal is being jammed by the enemy— Poe breaks out into a sprint for the command room. He rounds the corner, then ducks back behind the wall when he sees the familiar white plastoid plates of Stormtroopers fill the space. Kay bumps into him, then crowds against Hux protectively.

“Ground invasions. They don’t _do_ ground invasions,” Poe hisses. Not unless they’re looking for something. How the hell did they get past all their security measures in the first place? He punches at his comm furiously to contact someone on the outside. Nothing. “We’re not gonna get in the command room this way. It’s blocked.”

“We need firepower,” Kay whispers. He leads them down to the next corridor where they find a Resistance member, shot dead through his skull.

Without hesitation, Kay gathers the blaster off the body. “Stay behind me,” he orders Hux, his demeanor changed from protector to predator.

“We need to get to the command room,” Poe tells them. “There’s an emergency access point on the docking bay on the roof.”

Hux follows Poe toward the lift. Once aboard, Kay barricades them in, waiting poised with his blaster raised for whatever lies beyond the lift doors. Hux anxiously stares at the back of Kay’s head. He wishes he were the guardian, the valorous soldier, to protect Kay as he’s protecting him. But all Hux can manage to do is quake in his boots.

The lift reaches the roof. With a groan, the doors open, revealing the open sky filled with their fleet of X-wings and a smattering of TIE fighters around their Star Destroyer. Kay peers around the lift door to their blind spots.

About half a dozen Stormtroopers make themselves seen. Kay is quick and has a sniper’s aim. He shoots down all of them with succinct, rapid bolts. With the roof littered with Stormtrooper bodies, Poe leads them to the direction of the emergency access hatch.

Before they can locate the hatch, the acrid drone of a TIE fighter tears through the atmosphere. Its electric hiss is punctuated by a blast of laser cannon fire, obliterating a shuttle to scrap metal. The trio fly backwards, bruised and dazed.

Hux’s ears ring and his head spins, but he manages to crawl over to check on the nearest incapacitated brother, Poe.

“Come on,” Hux shouts, muted by his eardrum trauma. Poe’s eyes flutter open and he looks at him in disbelief. “We’re exposed. We need to move!”

Poe blinks, and in unison, their eyes land on Kay, meters away, on his stomach. He’s not moving. 

They crawl over to his prone form. Hux prods at his face as Poe finds his pulse. He’s alive, but unconscious. Shrapnel has bludgeoned his skull and blood expands into a halo on the concrete.

“No…” Hux laments, shattered. It can’t end like this.

“H-help me get him back to the lift,” Poe urges, bulldozing through his own panic. With their combined strength, they bring Kay’s unconscious body by his ankles and shoulders to the safety of the lift.

Hux wallows at his side once the doors are sealed, seeking for signs of life. “Kay,” he sobs, overcome with grief.

Poe scrubs at his face. He locks the lift and kneels at his brother’s side. “We need help,” he says hopelessly.

“No, no, no,” he whimpers, cradling Kay’s injured skull.

“We need a way out, dammit,” Poe growls to himself. It would be impossible to liberate their people in the control room with Kay incapacitated. He won’t leave Kay behind, not now, not ever. Kay is alive, but he’s bleeding out. He needs help.

Poe glares as Hux weeps openly. It’s hard to imagine this is the same person he’s grown to know and loathe. He knows what he must do if he’s to get Kay back to their people. He pulls out his jammed comm and activates the security beacon. “Take this.”

Hux sniffles, straightening. Poe regards him gravely. “When I tell you to, you take a left and follow the hall to the end. It’s an emergency exit to the brush line. I don’t know if they’ll have it blocked off but it’s the only chance you have to get him out of here. Once we deactivate the jamming of our equipment, our people will find him with this. Stay low and stay quiet.”

“I don’t understand,” Hux says.

“I’ll draw them off. Just focus on getting him out,” Poe tells him. He shoves the comm into Hux’s chest.

Hux’s brow purses as he takes Poe’s comm. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he tells him, unconvincing even through the breadth of his courage.

“He wouldn’t want me to leave you behind.”

At that, Poe bizarrely laughs. “Come on, I thought you wannabe-Imperials loved taking orders,” he jeers. There’s no heat behind it. He settles this by reactivating the lift to the ground level, the one crawling with troopers. Once they land, the door hisses open. Poe pokes his head out and eyes a crowd of Stormtroopers. He exhales, blaster aimed.

“Go left, then follow the hall to the end,” Poe reminds Hux, who is scrabbling for Kay’s underarms to support his mass. He nods once, then sprints out into the hall and begins firing on the enemy.

The blaster fire echoes farther and farther away. Poe is chasing them off. Then, to Hux’s horror, Poe’s frustrated growl fills the hall and an army of bootsteps thunder closer. Hux blanches, setting Kay gently to the floor.

“Freeze. Hold your fire.” Hux focuses on the distant mechanical vocalizer of the Stormtrooper in charge of apprehending Poe, struggling to hear through his injury. “Where is your prisoner?”

Hux hears Poe’s unmistakable incredulity. “Prisoner?” 

“Armitage Hux. Take us to him. Now.”

Hux claps a hand over his mouth. Poe says nothing in response, shocking Hux further. The Stormtrooper responds for him. “Suit yourself.”

“Hold your fire,” orders another Stormtrooper. “I know this guy. This is Poe Dameron. He’s their commander. If there’s anyone who knows the location of their prisoner, it’s him. Let’s bring him to the docking bay where we have the others. The captain will land shortly.”

As the bootsteps fade away and the hall clears, Hux realizes that this won’t be the end of it. They won’t stop until they have him. The First Order takes no prisoners, leaves behind no survivors. The only chance Kay has to be rescued is if he lures the First Order’s ground attack away from the base. He _must_ make himself the bait and see it through to give Kay a chance to be saved.

Hux grimaces as he hoists Kay up. Adrenaline fuels him as he drags Kay’s slack body out towards the emergency exit. Just as Poe instructed, he lugs Kay beneath the canopy of draping bushes. He tucks the comm into Kay’s shirt.

Reverently, he pets Kay’s slack face, cradling his jaw. He must move. They’re out of time.

Hux glares at the command shuttle—not unlike Kylo Ren’s—that descends efficiently on the roof of the Resistance base. If he can make it up there, he can commandeer the shuttle and announce himself as a diversion.

Hux kisses Kay’s forehead, pleading to the galaxy he’ll somehow be able to see him again. His tongue curls around the copper of Kay’s blood, the salt of his own tears.

He’s fooling himself in believing there’s a chance that he’ll live to see another day. Once he is caught—which is most likely—there will be no tomorrow.

Sparing one final look at Kay, he sprints back to the lift to finish what he’s started.

\--

Poe hisses as the Stormtroopers twist his arms and escort him to the main docking bay. He is mortified to find the bay sealed off, trapping them inside. The walls roar and buckle with cannon fire. It’s most likely their people, desperate to reenter and liberate their base. Poe sinks in resignation as he falls to his knees. Connix, as well as the rest of their command, are lined up in a similar fashion. She nods solemnly to him. This is the end of the line.

A tall young man in traditional First Order uniform enters his field of vision. At first glance, the man looks like the spitting image of General Hux. Porcelain skin, gelled hair, permanent grimace. Or rather, the old Hux, the one who blew the Hosnian System to hell, the one who would have balked at the idea of serving as a spy for the Resistance. Not the man who he trusted his brother’s life with.

“You all have done well this past year,” the captain remarks. “But today your good luck runs out. You have something we want.”

Poe angles his chin upward. “Care to be more specific?”

“The estranged and apostate Armitage Hux,” he says, stripping Hux of his rank. “He owes us his head. Tell us where he is, or we’ll gladly take all of yours.”

Hux is protecting Kay. He doesn’t give up his location. “Hux isn’t our prisoner anymore. Besides, you’re just gonna kill us all, anyway.”

“We have reason to believe otherwise. We gathered some information from one of your very bereaved technicians who holds a deep grudge against the man. They let his location leak to the bounty hunters’ guild. I will repeat myself one last time. Where is Armitage Hux?” he demands.

“We don’t have any prisoners,” the Poe grates. The officer waves a hand and a Stormtrooper raises his blaster rifle to the back of Poe’s head. Nothing he says will keep them from executing everyone in this room. At the very least, he can protect Kay.

“Captain.” Another Stormtrooper steps forward. “They found the traitor on the upper level. They’re bringing him down here.”

The captain smirks haughtily. “Excellent.”

Poe whips his head around towards the undignified cries as a bruised-face Hux is dragged between two enormous Stormtroopers.

Hux takes in the scene: Poe captured and ready to be executed alongside his people. He thinks of what Kay would do, and what Kay would want him to do.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you? Now, you have me. Take me. Let them go,” Hux shouts in a last-ditch effort to somehow save the day. Poe, as well as the other high-ranking Resistance command members, gape in disbelief.

The captain doesn’t waste any breath to acknowledge Hux’s open plea. He simply grimaces as Hux is brought to his knees beside Poe. Saving Poe and leading the First Order away from their base is futile. The First Order handbook states to destroy the enemy until they’re less than dust. He would know. He helped write it.

“As radical extremists and members of the loathsome Resistance, you all have proven to be too dangerous for the order of the galaxy. I order you all to be immediately terminated for your crimes,” the captain proclaims with pride and disdain.

The officer’s words shake Hux to his core. He overcomes the paralyzing shock, turning to Poe.

“Your brother is safe. I tried to come back to help, but I was caught. I failed,” Hux says, knot in his throat. “But Kay is safe,” he nods, a more watery smile lighting up his features.

Bewildered, Poe stares at him as a Stormtrooper brings their blaster to his skull.

“I’m so sorry,” Hux tells him, as his last words. This apology, however, is for Poe. He squeezes his eyes shut, quaking in terror as he awaits the inevitable.

Poe cannot find the proper response to Hux’s disclosure. Never had he imagined his final moments would be on his knees shoulder to shoulder with General Hux, waiting to be executed. He closes his eyes, taking with him that there is a chance his brother will be saved.

A sharp cry of fills the space around them. The blasters against their heads are shucked away as the Stormtroopers are launched meters from the line of kneeling Resistance fighters. Poe’s eyes fling open.

Whistling Birds. A bounty hunter’s weapon. Missiles fire from a heavily armored user, clearing the crowd with coordinated, lethal shots in one fell swoop. Poe and Hux exchange a moment of humanity, gaping at one another in awe.

The Resistance captives jump for the deceased Stormtrooper’s blaster rifles, easily clearing the remaining troopers with their own weapons. Poe searches for their savior among the commotion: a suspicious, armored woman with an eyepatch and a massive gun.

Hux’s reaction is the most telling. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“You know her?” Poe asks him, marching toward her in tandem.

“My guardian angel.” Hux approaches her first. “Phasma,” he nods.

Phasma. Of course, it’s another First Order lackey. Poe scoffs, but remains professional. And grateful. He isn’t an idiot. She just saved their asses. “Thank you.”

Phasma spares him a curt nod. “Shall we be leaving?”

The remaining Resistance members rush to the shuttle as others hotwire the armored docking bay doors to open so they can make their way to the main cruiser. They work together like a machine, as Hux scurries after them uselessly.

Poe sprints for the cockpit. “Need to pick up some precious cargo first!”

\--

The mechanical hum of a vitals machine fills Kay’s ears as he emerges from unconsciousness. He blinks, and the blank void above sharpens to reveal dimmed ceiling lights. The space is quickly filled by the concerned face of his brother.

“Hey,” Poe exhales, smiling as Kay lolls his bandaged head against the pillow. “You made it.”

Then, comes the pain. Through the throbbing of his skull, Kay recalls the events leading up to his incapacitation. Stormtroopers, sprinting, and an explosion that knocked the lights out of him. Abruptly, Kay shoots up. “Hux—where is he?”

“He’s fine,” Poe chides, trying to goad him back to the mattress with his palms.

“I need to see him. Now.” Kay tries to slide from the bed. In his weakened, drugged state, Poe can easily shift him back.

“He’s fine. I promise. They just stitched your brains back into your head. I’ll bring him over soon, okay?” Poe shakes his head, the events of the day not yet fully sinking in. “Your boyfriend and I almost got matching holes in our heads, but we made it. We’re safe.”

Kay sinks into the mattress, grimacing from the mental image, of what could have happened. “He’s okay?”

“Dammit, he’s fine! And I’m fine, too. Thanks for asking,” Poe laughs, pretending to be offended. “You’re really lost to that smarmy little guy, aren’t you?”

Kay can’t have this discussion again. “If all you’re gonna do is ridicule him, I won’t hear it.”

Poe sobers, holding up his hand in surrender. “I’m sorry. I know you care about him—”

“I love him.”

Poe shakes his head, trying to find the right thing to say. Kay’s been out for hours and he still couldn’t come up with what he wants to tell him. He isn’t even sure how he feels about Hux anymore. “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.”

Kay frowns. He knows his brother just as well as he knows himself. Poe is trying hard to empathize. His relationship with the First Order is one that doesn’t permit friendships with their defectors. Apart from Finn, but Finn is different.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. I was afraid or what you would do to him,” Kay says.

“I know why you did it. Hell, given my reaction, how can I blame you?”

Stiffly, Kay chuckles, but then it hurts too much, so he stops with a groan. “Please don’t…please don’t take him from me.”

Poe recoils. He’s never seen his brother beg or show any sort of deep vulnerability. He rests against the wall, massaging the lower half of his face as he toils with the conflict within himself. If he sends Hux away to serve a life sentence under the New Republic—the Newer Republic, rather—then Kay will be in pieces. He thinks back to he and Hux shoulder to shoulder, knees against the rough hangar floor, blaster rifles bruising their skulls. Hux could have escaped. He could have run off into the plains of Dantooine. Hux came back and was ready to die at his side.

“This is very difficult for me,” Poe says.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Poe has people who he must answer to. He has the New Republic and their government, warriors sworn in to protect freedom and democracy and vaporize every fascist bastard they see. The countless families of victims of the Hosnian Genocide.

Leia left behind enormous boots to fill. This decision is one he thinks she may have made herself. Poe meets Kay’s overtired eyes.

“I won’t be pursuing him for trial. Or imprisonment, or execution, or anything. But given what’s happened, he can’t stay here.” Poe found out that one of their technicians gave the location of Hux to a bounty hunter. Her whole family died at the hands of the First Order. No one else was supposed to get hurt, but the information somehow got to the First Order and they decided to take advantage instead.

Kay’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”

“You take him somewhere safe, and he stays there with you. If he wants to help us, he can do so remotely.”

“What about your constituents? If they find out you let him off the hook, they’ll tear you a new one.”

“They can tear me whatever they like. I’ve made my decision. Congrats on the early retirement.” Poe stands up to leave, then turns. “And just so we’re clear. I don’t care how many people you’ve killed, or how many babies you ate, or whatever. You’re a good fucking person, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kay smiles, weary but sincere. He releases a breath of relief, overjoyed. He and Hux will be free, and they’ll be together.

\--

Hux sits tightly on a chair, leg wobbling as he agonizes awaiting information on Kay’s wellbeing. He and Phasma are alone in one of the windowless rooms of the Resistance cruiser, accompanied by silence. It’s been hours since he last heard from anyone.

“I’m sure your boyfriend is fine,” Phasma says, causing Hux to spasm. He joins her on his feet and begins to pace.

“I wish I had your glowing optimism.” When they gathered Kay from Hux’s hiding place, he was unresponsive. Now after hours safe in hyperspace, Hux and Phasma have been kept at a distance from the Resistance. Not as prisoners, however. Phasma still has all her weapons. Poe only told them to _please wait here._

“You know me. Ever the idealist.”

Hux shakes his head. “How the hell did you even find me?”

“One of your people took the liberty to release your location to the Guild,” she says. “When I found out, I knew nothing good would come of it. And naturally, I was correct. You almost lost your head.”

Hux’s ears catch on her choice of words. _Your people._ Him, a part of the Resistance? As if Hux would ever be a Resistanceman. The idea is preposterous. Simply preposterous.

“I suppose I’m confused, is all,” he responds.

“As to what?”

“As to why you keep helping me.”

Phasma narrows her eyes as if she’s about to award him a scalding verdict. “Because I care about you. Isn’t that enough?”

Hux halts in his tracks. Then, he surrenders to an urge he’s never truly had in the past. He pulls her in for an embrace, wrapping his arms around her armor.

“Thank you,” Hux says thickly.

“You’re very in tune with your emotions since you defected. It’s strange, but endearing.”

Hux laughs, pulling back. “I’ve undergone a lot of introspection.”

She grips his shoulder, tossing his frame playfully. They’re interrupted by Finn at the door. It’s the First Order Defector reunion that nobody wanted.

Finn crosses his arms. “Poe wanted me to thank you for what you did.” It’s clear that Finn does not attach himself to the gratitude. Their history will always make them sworn enemies. “Because he is grateful, he wanted me to tell you that he’s gonna offer you one of our escape pods. But the offer only stands right now. Like, right now,” He jerks his head towards Connix behind him, who will escort her out.

 _Get the hell out,_ is what he means, and it’s what she hears. There’s no need to tell her twice. She takes Hux’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently in a silent good-bye.

“Take care,” she tells Finn on her way out, smirking against his fierce glare. Her eyepatch glints in the overhead light, reminding Finn of the parting gift he gave her before she defected from the First Order. He holds onto that satisfaction.

When Finn and Hux are alone, Hux steps forward. “How is he?”

“He’s awake. Doing great, considering. He is asking about you.”

Hux could weep in relief. “May I see him?” he pleads, uncaring of how flagrantly he projects what’s in his heart.

“This way,” Finn tells him, leading him down the hall. On the next level, Kay’s room is visible from an observation window, guarded by Rey for no other reason than her own curiosity. Finn turns to Hux, who gasps at the sight of Kay safe in bed.

As soon as Finn gives Hux the okay, Hux fumbles desperately with the door. From Finn’s view, he sees Kay light up with pure relief and elation. The distance between them closes and they embrace. The reunion evolves into a passionate kiss, where their faces twist in agony and their tongues dart out as if to take permanent residence in each other’s mouths.

“They know we can see them, right?” Finn complains.

Rey smiles softly. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You would,” he scoffs.

She punches his arm in jest. “No one is making you watch.” She snickers as Finn animatedly turns to put his back to the glass.

Inside the recovery room, Hux releases Kay gently with a groan of distress. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he whimpers. He loves him so much, it hurts. It’s clawing at his throat.

“Are you alright?” Kay breathes. He gently thumbs around the bruises littering Hux’s cheekbone.

“I’m fine. I’m more than fine.”

Kay kicks his legs off the bed. “Let me get you—”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Hux chastises. “Lay back. Please. I need you well.”

“Alright, alright,” Kay sighs, surrendering. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Then you can imagine how it makes me feel seeing you try and climb out of this bed in this state.”

Kay takes Hux’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “Poe told me that you two were almost killed.”

“But we weren’t, thanks to Phasma. She saved us.”

“I owe her an unpayable debt.”

“Trust me. She has a price if you want to offer one.” Hux sits beside his knee. He never wants to leave his side again. “In what I believed to be my last moments…all I thought about was you and how I’d failed you. How I got Poe killed and how you’d have to live on without him because of my failure.”

Once more, Kay takes Hux’s hand between he both of his. “I could never blame you for something like that,” he tells him. Kay considers a timeline where Phasma failed to save them. “Losing you is a point I could not see myself recovering from.”

“Neither could I,” Hux whispers. He leans into Kay’s space to bestow him with a gentle kiss. When they part, Kay’s thumb finds his fat bottom lip. They’ve made a permanent mark on one another. It feels as though it’s sewn into their skin.

“I have something to tell you,” Kay murmurs. “We’re getting out of here.”

Immediately, Hux withdraws. “I don’t want to run from your damned brother anymore, Kay. I won’t do that to you or to him.”

“If you let me finish,” Kay starts, “I would do so by informing you that he is letting you go. He’s letting us both go. He promised not to seek your arrest. You’re free.”

Hux gapes at him in shock. “Impossible.”

“We’re free.”

“Your brother wanted my head on a pike. What changed?” he stammers, buzzing with exhilaration.

Kay smiles, wistful and content. “Maybe he knows how much I love you.”

Hux flushes, biting his lip. “Or maybe I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Oh, you’re worth it, alright,” Kay grins, tugging him back down to kiss him once more.

Within the hour, Kay’s exhaustion overcomes him. Hux takes his hand and kneels on the floor, vowing to stay at his bedside for as long as he’s allowed. He doesn’t realize he’s dozed off until he startles awake at a noise by the door. He sits up from his place on the floor, swiping the drool from his cheek with the hand he kept securely around Kay’s.

At the door, Poe Dameron makes himself seen. They share a wordless exchange, then their eyes fall on the man that connects them. Kay is thankfully asleep, oblivious.

Hux stands, almost to attention as if Poe were his commanding officer. Poe said he could be free. He gave Kay his implicit word that they could be together. Despite these pledges, Hux’s belly churns with fear.

Poe stamps out what’s left of Hux’s anxiety as he wheels out a simple, worn recliner with a neatly folded blanket on top. He situates the chair beside Kay’s bed and tests out the footrest. It appears to be comfortable. Hux could weep, if he weren’t fresh out of tears.

“Thank you,” Hux blurts, before Poe can make it out of the room. Poe looks back at him with his signature deadpan look and closes the door. However, it’s not quick enough to fully conceal his private smile.

Hux scoots the recliner as closely to Kay as he’s able, wrapping his legs with the blanket. He wriggles so that he’s on his side and lays his palm flat on Kay’s steady chest.

When he sleeps, he doesn’t dream. Or if he does, his dreams are no more blissful than his reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my OC lol. I appreciate any comments and kudos.
> 
> I hope to add more to this verse and explore life for Hux and Kay after the events of this fic. Feel free to comment anything you may like to see for future installments!


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